Go Big and Go Home
by NYCBound
Summary: How exactly did Santana get back to Lima so fast? And what exactly happened when she got there? Brittana, with some guest starring appearances from Emma, Will, Sam and the rest of the WMHS Crew. While filling in the silences of "All or Nothing", Santana tries to define "Home". 4x22 Quotations & Spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: I've never published to this site before, but why the heck not? Be gentle reviewers!**

**I own nothing other than my interpretation of the Gleeniverse. I did not create these characters nor their epic love. **

**Embarrassing spelling and typographical errors, sadly, all mine. Love this ship. **

_**Go Big and Go Home **_

**Chapter 1**

* * *

The night Tina called to mention that my Britt Britt was "dating" Sam I immediately changed his contact picture in my phone. It used to be a glamour shot of his rather bodacious bottom that he had taken and saved himself. We were at Breadsticks, right after he and I had started hooking up, and I left my phone on the table when I went to the ladies room to reapply my lipstick - or was I gossiping with Britt? She was sitting on the other side of the restaurant with Artie, I think. I don't remember. I don't really care actually. But the next day when Sam called to ask for me for my Spanish homework, a lovely picture of his lovely posterior greeted me on my phone. I laughed so hard that I spit my latte across the table at the Lima Bean and all over Brittany. Oh Sam. He wasn't always an idiot.

But when Tina info-bombed me with conformation that Britt was playing dumb and dumber with that imbecile, who was still too lazy to do his own homework, mind you, I wanted to cut a bitch. Since I couldn't, I Googled "baboon ass", downloaded the image that looked the most like flapjack face's epic maw and updated the contact for my own amusement. It was completely appropriate and in some strange, twisted, absurd way made me feel less like my stomach was going to fall out of my body and more like I still had the upper hand, which obviously I did not.

That said I've always known that in the big picture Sam is harmless. He was never clever enough to actually win Brittany's heart. I knew I had that shit on lock down. But I still couldn't shake the image of his humungous lips slobbering Brittany's collarbones, Brittany's ears, Brittany's… like a labrador retriever puppy that hadn't grown into its humungous face yet. I mean she HATES sloppy kisses. I know this. I mastered the exact tongue lip nibble ratio necessary to make Brittany squeal, because I had to. Brittany might be quirky, but if she's anything, she's particular and kisses that leave puddles are not at all sexy in the book of Britt. I know. I helped her write it.

So the whole time I have been in New York I have tried to make sense of this mess and why she practically shoved me out the door and stayed with Sir-Lips-A-lot because he "made her feel _smart'_? I've been telling Brittany for years that she's a flipping genius because she is. Brittany sees and comprehends the world in such a genuinely unique and special way. In the one class I actually enjoyed in Louisville we learned about the Theory of Multiple Intelligences and there it was, Bam! Brittany Susan Pierce, the love of my life and mother of my unborn children, was a fucking genius of the most non-traditional kind. If she had been talking to me at the time I would have been so excited to tell her about it. But no, I'm the moron who refused to pick up the phone and try to keep the promise we made when we said we'd stay friends. It was too sad. And I was so wrapped up in my guilt from the "energy exchange" in the library that I was hiding from Britt while Sam was weaseling his way into her everyday rhythm. I wasn't being a terribly good friend so swimming-in-the-sea-faced Sam moved right on in.

Maybe its because he has the IQ of a Pop Tart and spends his time chasing Blaine around in a super hero cape and acting like a nine year old trying to solve crimes that she finds charming. They have playfulness in common which at best is kinda cute, but I can't imagine any real passion there. I mean really? I can't help but think that in some way they got together because neither of them could be with me. I know, I know, I'm not the center of the universe. But I am the center of theirs. I am the passion! At least I used to be.

I dumped Trouts to be with Britt. And he was like, "Wowah you guys are like lezzies or something? Can I watch? Finn said once you offered to let him watch." He thought Britt and I were some kind of joke, or some kind of thing to turn him on. And we were like, in unison, "Um, no." And I thought to myself that sophomore or even early junior year we would have let him watch and it would have been funny. But senior year was different. Things got different. Things got, like intense. Like for real. Sharing was no longer and option.

Needless to say things between the oral vacuum and I haven't been the same since. Maybe he would hate me less if I had jumped at the chance for him to watch Britt and I get it on. Maybe I would hate him less if he didn't court Brittany by leaving a trail of Cheerios on the filthy McKinley floor and he treated her like a person, not Barbie doll arm candy. But let's just say that seeing that monkey sphincter light up my phone this morning first made me laugh all over again, but also made my heart start to race. A teeny part of me hoped Britt would be on the line. Maybe she called me from his phone because she'd left hers in the locker room, or dropped it in the toilet again, or maybe it was stolen by a new foreign exchange student, or Figgie started enforcing the no cell phone ban and confiscated it. But no. It wasn't Brittany and it wasn't bass-face's bodacious bottom pocket dialing me in error. It was Sam and he sounded terrified.

Maybe it was wrong of him to call me. Maybe I'm crazy to think she will even want to see me. Maybe her acting out is a function of something that has nothing to do with me. Or Sam. Maybe she's just going to push me away again. Maybe this ten-hour overnight train would be less terrifying if I could stop my mind from playing the last four years of my life on repeat and I could finally get some sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**I own nothing other than my interpretation of the Gleeniverse. I did not create these characters nor their epic love.**

**Embarrassing spelling and typographical errors, sadly, all mine. **

******Thanks for reading and for your helpful feedback & support!**

**Love this ship. **

_**Go Big and Go Home **_

**Chapter 2**

* * *

My mother was waiting at the station in her sunglasses when I arrived. The sun wasn't up yet. I threw my overnight bag into the back seat and I swear I could hear her eyes clunk from one side of her head to the other as I sat down.

"Mija…." Her sleepy contralto spilled into the front of the car with as much fear as harsh judgment. "This better be good, Santana. We didn't save up all that money for you to run back and forth to Lima every time Brittany 'needs you'." She made the annoying little rabbit ears with her hands when she said, "needs you". My heart sank. My mother's hands suddenly looked a lot like my hands and that made my throat struggle to work but her continued rambling interrupted the looming panic attack starting in the passenger seat. "That money was for college, or your career. Or something other than this over night train."

Silence.

"Again."

I swallowed. Hard. She was right. I hate when she's right. But she was right. As speckles of pink started to sneak into the atmosphere it felt like all of Ohio itself was blushing. I shouldn't have come. It is not my place. I don't even know what the hell is going on. No one answered my texts other than Tina and all she had to say was "Yup. She's loosin' it. News at 11." But even after a nap on the train I felt like I had a five hundred pound elephant sitting on my chest and I just couldn't breathe.

"There's a coffee in the cup holder, baby. That's for you." My mother put her hand on my knee and started to make little circles with her thumb. She used to do that on my back when I couldn't sleep. I used to catch myself doing the same thing to Brittany all the time. I rolled my eyes at myself for even thinking about it. The apple doesn't fall far. I grabbed the coffee and let the scent of it open my nose.

"Thank you for the coffee. And for getting up at the butt crack of dawn get me. I have no idea what's coming, but it certainly doesn't feel good."

"But you said Sam and Brittany broke up? That's what you said last night when you called. I mean that's what you wanted right? Isn't this about you trying to get back together with Brittany?"

I couldn't believe she was just putting that all out there, like I would just run home at the fist mention of Sam and Brittany's break up, ride in on some kinda white horse and reclaim my maiden. Does she really think our relationship was that simple? Or that I was that shallow? God. My own mother.

"No mom. That's not why I'm here. Sam called me. He begged me to come home. He's frightened. Some crazy shit's going on and no one will give me straight answers so I'm just going to have to find Brittany and ask her myself."

"Okay. So should I head to Brittnay's or to school?"

"I don't know. I hadn't thought that far into this plan, mom. All I know is Brittany went to Boston to talk to people at MIT and she came back all kinds of crazy. I mean, the new girl, Marley, that I actually really like, she's like a less psycho Rachel, posted some cryptic Facebook status about Glee Club getting disqualified for Regional's because of she was 'betrayed by someone who tried to steal her solo' #BRITTNAYSADIVA? And Becky Jackson posted a picture on Instagram of Brittany in Coach Sue's office with Coach Roz and a blazing fire. A fire mom!"

"Okay, okay. I get it. And Brittany's not answering her phone?

"Right to voice mail"

"Or texts?"

"Not from me, or Sam, or even Mr. Shue. I asked."

Moma bear sucked her teeth as she put the car in drive and started to exit the lot. Sunlight was spreading like my anxiety as we pulled into the Lima morning commute.

"Do you think maybe I should call her parents San?"

"She was wearing my hat though."

We stopped at a red light and Mom took off her sunglasses to look me in the eye.

"Huh?"

"In the fire picture, she was wearing my red beret."

The light turned green.

"It looked really cute on her," I swallowed the end of the phrase.

My mother then pulled the car over, put on the emergency flashing lights and turned to me in the front seat. She rubbed her mascara-less eyes and looked at me head on. Her pupils were sparking and excited.

"Okay, Santanita, this is what we're going to do. I'm going to take you to your car. You're going to put yourself together and wake the hell up. I'm going to get myself dressed and off to work and you can go find your girl and get back your hat, okay?"

"It's just a hat mom. Who cares about the damn hat? But yea that sounds perfect, mommy. Thank you. Seriously."

"For Brittany? Honey. Anything."


	3. Chapter 3

**I own nothing other than my interpretation of the Gleeniverse. I did not create these characters nor their epic love.**

**Embarrassing spelling and typographical errors, sadly, all mine.**

******Thanks for reading and for your helpful feedback & support!**

**Love this ship. **

_**Go Big and Go Home **_

**Chapter 3**

* * *

By time the time I showered, put on my face, and put gas in my car, my cell phone was blowing up like Orville Redenbacher in the microwave.

**Lips:** _Santana? Where are you? ETA?_

Obviously. Ugh. I am a woman of my word, I just had to do my hair damn it. I'm not going to show up looking like I slept on a train. Jeeze.

**Baby Britt: **_Mouse! Thought of you this morning. Hi!_

Um. What? She hasn't called me "Mouse" since I was permanently friend-zoned. Gulp.

**Mr. Shue: **_Hi Santana, sorry I did not respond to your messages earlier. Coach Sylvester and I have tried to speak with Brittany, but it did seem to help. Sam tells me you are heading to Lima. I sincerely cannot wait to see you. Brittany needs you Santana. We all do. _

_**Mr. Shue: **__Oh and Ms. Pillsbury sends her love. _

Now aside from the fact that Mr. Shue's text was as long-winded as his pep talks and used grotesquely appropriate grammar and vocabulary, I was feeling legitimately touched when my phone started to jump in my hands again.

**Britty Baby: **_I wish you were here. Pout._

WTF.

**Tina CC:** _Sue's baby is Michael Bolton's? Did you know? Wack right?_

WTMF?

**Britty Baby:** _LTubbs Misses Santana. If NY wasn't so far away you could be our special guest today on FF2. _

Oh no. She always talks through the cat when she's trying to talk about something scary.

**Britty Baby: **_New Mercedes cancelled on me. Something about a catfish._

Now that IS scary.

**Queen Mercedes: **_Gurl! It is a shit show up in here! Mike and I could seriously use some back up. Are you really comin?_

Wait! Too many texts. Shue. Tina. Mercedes. Sam. But I had Britt with her phone in her hands. I press dial. Right to voice mail. I text her back.

_Britty! Surprise! I AM in Lima. My mom needed me home this weekend. What time should I come over? I'd love to be on FF2. I promise not to chicken out this time. Xo_

She replies within seconds.

_Silly Santana! I don't go to school any more. Come on over!_


	4. Chapter 4

**I own nothing other than my interpretation of the Gleeniverse. I did not create these characters nor their epic love.**

**Embarrassing spelling and typographical errors, sadly, all mine.**

******Thanks for reading and for your helpful feedback & support!**

**Love this ship. **

_**Go Big and Go Home **_

**Chapter 4**

* * *

I've been letting myself into the Pierces' house since Britt and I were latch-key kids in elementary school. We either went home to her house, or went home to mine – depending on who had the better snacks. My house always had better leftovers. But her's always had store bought goodies. Pringles. Fruit Leather. Mini Muffins. Cookie dough that never quite made it into the oven. But hey, we weren't allowed to turn the oven on without and adult in the house until we were at least 13. So the cookie dough by itself was fine by me. But our parents worked full time jobs and until we became full time Cheerleaders we had several hours every day after school to amuse ourselves. When I think of the fact that we didn't start making out until after that magical afternoon time no longer existed…

But somehow I don't feel like I can take the spare key out from under the stone toad in the landscaping and let myself in. Did I give those privileges up when Britt and I took our break? Okay. I forced an "unofficial break". OMG. I have gone over this with Rachel and Kurt so many times it makes my head spin. I don't know what the hell I did and all I know is I blew it and I'm standing on Britt's door step trying not to let my heart flutter but I'm afraid to use the key and perhaps I should just ring the damn bell but before I can actually make contact with the small glowing circle in front of me with my shaky little finger the door snaps open and Brittney is grinning like a Cheshire cat and it completely takes my breath away.

"Hi Mouse!"

"Hey Britt Britt."

She throws her arms around my neck and drags me into the foyer.

"Are you ready for your big debut! I'm so excited. Come up stairs. Tubbs is ready with the camera."

Brittany grabs my left wrist and makes a break for the stairs. She can take them three at a time and I, well, can't. So I stumble behind her and I may have ended up swatting her more than perfect ass on the way up, but we get to her room and it looks exactly the same as it did the last time I was here. I think that was Thanksgiving. Wow. That long ago. I do totally suck. But the framed photo of her and Sam that I noticed during a more recent and awkward Skype chat is face down on the dresser. I can't help but wonder if she faceplanted the photo because she knew I was coming over, or if she did it before she even knew I was in town. It is good to see there are still photos of me all over this place. Wow. That must have been rough for him. I stifle a smile.

Brittany takes my hands in hers and places me in my seat. She fusses with my hair. Dusts a little powder on my nose "Too shiny for the camera" she says. And as she leans in to toss my hair over my right shoulder I can feel her nose suspend right below my ear as she inhales just a little too much.

Elephant. Elephant. Elephant! Get off my chest! For the first time in the history of our twisted and beautiful friendship - relationship - crackship - whatever ship – Brittany is totally making me uncomfortable and not in a sexy sexy times a brewin' kind of way. No Brittany is making me uncomfortable because she is like an alien version of herself. It is like Brittany on speed. But Brittany HATES drugs. She'll drink anyone under the table, but she's not going to do anything else. Too risky. "You've seen my sour patch kid addiction, Santana. I cannot be trusted with other gate way drugs" she used to say. But this Brittany has eaten a case of sour patch kids? Dropped acid? Been body snatched? Is this the work of that wonder-bitch Kitty that thinks she's blonde me - but fails on both hotness and wit? Perhaps. I'm trying to decipher this code as Brittney continues to say things that just don't add up. "Sadness is stupid."

She's lucky I didn't toss Tubbs AND the camera out the damn window. Sadness is not stupid. Sadness is real. And Brittney feels things just like quantifiable and respectable sadness in Wide Screen Technicolor and that is what makes her the most beautiful girl on the planet and if she's saying "Sadness is stupid" well then…

I don't think I've ever spoken to Brittney so harshly and I could see my words hit her like a slushy. It's my job to use vicious vicious words to protect Brittney not to harm her. But I can't stop them from splintering around my teeth like shards of broken glass hurling towards her beautiful face.

But then her demeanor changes. I can almost see her face fall but her chest lift in response. Her focus is pointed and relaxed and she confides in me some very serious news that will change everything. And it does.

Brittany is leaving for MIT. Next week. Yes she quit the Glee Club. And the Cheerios. And yes she threw that damn uniform in the trashcan and torched it for good measure. And yes she was horrible to her "friends" but no more so than any one of them have been to her at one time or another, when they thought less of her intelligence, doubted her value, or abused her far too kind heart.

"Yes Brittany this changes everything" I choked out behind proud sobs. "But math? Baby you want to go to college to study math? I thought equations gave you bad dreams, remember? I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but I did your math homework for years? Do you even like math now?"

"No, I don't Santana. But I don't like being called an idiot more. And if those super smart dudes at EM-EYE-TEE, not mit, I thought it was like catcher's mit, mit, but it is M-I-T, but if those mondo smart dudes think my brain has some numbers in it that they want and it is going to get me out of here, then I'll power through the bad dreams and sing math right back to them as a show tune in a hot pair a jeans and a university sweatshirt if I have to!"

Her smile unfurled like a red carpet and I couldn't stop what happened next if my life depended on it. Our lips met in a jubilant celebration of applause and squealing. Brittany. My beautiful genius Brittany being recruited by a mathematical think tank in one of the best schools on the planet. No biggie.

Her hands slid under the back of my sweater as easily as my tongue slid into her mouth. Both were warm and familiar and comforting and gentle. I could feel her hips pressing into mine and my hands subconsciously starting spinning circles on the nape of her neck. I took off her scarf off and laid it neatly on the desk. I untied her ponytail and let her hair spill around our faces. She leaned over and put her arm under my knees and literally swept me off of my feet and placed me gently on the bed like a princess.

"And now, Santana, I'm going to get my sweet lady kisses on, with my sweet lady."

She hopped her self up beside me and started nuzzling into my collarbone with her nose. She speckled me with tiny baby kisses as she mumbled happily into my skin "because I don't know if you realize this but Massachusetts is way closer to New York City than Lima. And you can take a bus for like 20 bucks, I looked it up. The buses are run by the Chinese mafia, but who cares as long as I can get to you in like 3 hours, or you can come to me in like 3 hours on the Chinese mafia bus and we can do math or I can come to NY and see Lady Hummel and Grandma Berry too. Because you know we can do a better job this time. We can do a better job because there is less distance and we'll both be happier. Because this MIT thing is happening because the universe needs me to be closer to you, and closer to your dream, because your dream is my dream, to dream for you and I to have our dreams overlap and make a forever. I mean isn't that the whole point of loving someone? I love you Santana. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone else in this world."

"Britty, I love you so so much, but please stop talking." And please keep kissing.

"Okay. Sorry. I just really missed your kisses a lot. Like a whole lot. Like as big as the giant number that the dudes at MIT really liked that apparently came out of my brain! It was really really big. They called it 'The Brittany Code'. Isn't that cool?"

"Very." I flipped her over and swung my leg over her hip and sat back on her thighs. Brittany looked up at me like she'd never seen me before. Her eyes were swimming with tears, happy ones, I think. Her hands anchored on my waist. Her smile. Just. So. Flipping. Perfect. Subtle. Classey. Cute.

"Santana?"

"Yes, love?"

"That girl in the library. Did you kiss her?"

"No. I didn't Britt Britt. I promise."

"Did you kiss anyone else? I mean other than Quinn at Mr. Shue and Ms. Pillsbury's not-wedding?"

I tried to speak. No sound came out. I tried to slide off of her lap, but she held me in place. Her hands held me without force but her eyes locked in on mine.

"No stop. It's okay. I get it," she said calmly. "Quinn was there. It was hard. You were both schwastyfaced."

"Brittany I am so so sorry."

Brittany pulled the bottom of her tank top over the pad of her palm and used it to wipe my cheeks and continued, "It's okay Santana. I mean it's not. But I understand. I mean I was with Sam and it was Valentine's Day, at a wedding, and you were lonely. I get it. I as lonely and I just wanted to be with you. And Sam didn't shave and when he'd kiss me I'd start to cry. And that night when we..."

Her eyes shifted off of my face and to the carpet beside the bed like the mysteries of the world were buried in the mauve colored shag.

"What Britt?" I said trying to win her eyes back to the safety of my own. Nothing she could say could possibly hurt me more than I'd already hurt her. I was convinced. Nothing. But she was visibly frightened. Her lips quivering. Her eyes welling.

Begrudgingly she continued, but Brittany kept her eyes on my chin, darting them to my mouth, or my ears, any place by my eyes really. "After the wedding, in the hotel, when we...uh...he thought I was crying because we had this deep, profound, connection and really I was just crying because his hands were rough and his face was rough and he just wasn't you."

Her eyes came back to me. I felt her relax underneath me. Her mouth softened into something between a pout and a smile. I felt myself give into her baby blues like I could dive right in.

"Brittany. You have no idea how much that means to me," I said collapsing into her chest. I wrapped my arms around her bare shoulders and slid my legs beside hers. They almost immediately wrapped around one another in a tangle of limbs so familiar and complex. "And no. There was no one else." I spoke directly to her clavicle. Directly to her heart, actually, which was beating so fast and loud under my temple it felt like a jackhammer to my face. "I promise. I mean, I tried. I thought I wanted to, but every time I could have, I just couldn't do it. They just weren't you."

Brittney sighed. We both giggled. I kissed her chin. She kissed the top of my head. This was our most favorite cuddle to sleep in. I think the first time we found it we were 10 or 11 years old. Even then Brittany was a perfect third bigger than me, so she could always wrap her long arms all the way around me and I could tuck my head right between her shoulder and her grin. We just fit. So so perfectly. We fit. I burrow into her like the baboon on my phone and the fire in the office and the cryptic texts never happened. My eyes felt so heavy. My heart so full of surprise, so proud, so light.

Brittany's giggle took shape into words one more time, "And Santana, thank you for believing in me when no one else did."

"Whatever Britt Britt, I was just callin' it like I see it."

"But really, I'm so glad I could tell you in person. How lucky am I that your mom called you home, huh?"

"Pretty lucky."

So incredibly lucky.


	5. Chapter 5

**I own nothing other than my interpretation of the Gleeniverse. I did not create these characters nor their epic love.**

**Embarrassing spelling and typographical errors, sadly, all mine. Love this ship.**

**Would love to know your thoughts! :)**

**_Go Big and Go Home_**

**Chapter 5**

* * *

Falling asleep in Brittany's arms is just about as easy as breathing in her sunshine, but waking up and being forced out of those long and lithe snuggle machines? No. Not my favorite.

First it was her phone. The Charlie Brown theme song. That meant it was flipping Finn. Brittany always thought he was "just a blockhead Frankenteen" after all. So clever that girl. Charlie Brown. I swear. Then my phone starts blaring "La Cucaracha", which is Mr. Shue, obviously.

My phone ringing on top of her phone ringing makes our eyes open in unison and lock. The phones vibrate their contrasting melodies on the table next to the fondue like they're dancing. But neither of us move. Brittany's arms tighten around my shoulders. I nuzzle my face into her chest. She smells so familiar, so warm, so… Charlie Brown cuts off abruptly in the middle of a phrase. I hate that about phone rings. They are just so musically irresponsible. I can almost see the sheet music in my mind and then the measure just gets sliced in half by the silence. Shue must have gone to my voicemail too. Yes. I do think this much about music. I can't help it. It's my tick.

That said… as soon as the silence resumes I feel Britt's shoulders melt back into the space under me and then "La" freaking "Cucaracha" winds up for another round.

"Nooooo" I hear myself moan, against my better judgment. I should be pulling Brittany up, dusting her off, and delivering her to the final rehearsal for Regional's this afternoon. What time is it anyway? Rehearsal always starts at 3:00. Call to dress for the competition is probably 6:00 for a 7:00 curtain. I got to Brittany's house at 10:00? Is it what like 11:00 maybe noon now? I am hungry. Actually I'm starving.

"Baby, what time is it?" I choke out on a voice that sounds newborn.

"Brittana time" she says, smiling like a devil.

"Seriously Britty, what time is it? They're calling because they want to know where-"

But I can't finish my statement because Brittany takes both of my wrists, flips me flat on my back, covers my lips with her own, slides her knee between my legs and pins me to the bed with her miraculous hands in one effortless motion.

She may shut my mouth, but even the overwhelming pressure building in my lady loins, cannot still my racing heart or mind. I have to get her back to school. I promised. Marley. Shue. Mercedes. Even fucking Sam. And the New Directions cannot compete without 12 singers. No ifs ands or but…. Brittany is teething on my earlobe and slipping her long muscular hands under my skirt. She cups my right hip with her palm and I feel the air in my chest rattle with my resolve.

I've waited months for this. Months! I've cried myself to sleep imagining this very same sequence of touches just hoping I could conjure a hallucination believable enough to not feel so lost without her. But now she's here and she's climbing me like a mountainside and she presses her lips to my neck and it literally takes my breath away. With this kiss the elephant excuses himself and I suddenly feel like I'm tethered to Brittany like a balloon tied to a child's wrist. With every kiss down my chest and onto my stomach and back she floats me higher and higher. My back arches under the weight of her ridiculous curves pressed onto my too tiny frame.

I want to be as much of a woman as Brittany is right now, but as her mouth sinks deeper into mine I feel just as overwhelmed and small as I did the very first time our fourteen-year-old tongues touched and the sparks burned my lips in our "sleep". But present day Brittany is filling out like a centerfold and I feel like a scrawny underfed starving artist. Wait. I am one. But damn, girl. I've been kissing this body for five years and I can't believe how different she feels after just a few months apart. Being smothered by Brittany's luscious hips has never made me feel so utterly… hungry…

"I need to make love to you Santana" she interrupts the chatter of my thoughts with a steamy whisper into my ear.

Brittany's request, or is it a confession, startles my love-drunk lids open to meet the crystalline shine of her baby blues burning holes right through me. I feel her thumbs slide over my skinny hips, in unison, as they hook under the edge of my bikini briefs and start to edge them down. I want nothing more than to rip off my clothes and let her have her way with me. Make love? Brittany never says, "Make love". She says I want to "play with you", or "tickle you", or my personal favorite "boom boom you." But right now, I'm staring into the eyes of the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life, who is apparently the same Brittany Susan Pierce who threw an epic tantrum yesterday, fired her friends, fired her teachers, fired her boyfriend, insulted every single person she passed on the way and lit a fire in the Cherrios' office. Yet now, clear as day, calm as anything, she wants to "make love" to me and I want to just roll over and die…

But that is NOT why I am here. My knees flinch up. Brittany recoils. My mother's snarky comment about Sam and Brittany's break up and my timely return rings in my burning ears. I am not just here to drop panties! Mine or hers! I'm here to –

"Britt, wait. I –"

"You don't want me to?" Her face falls, her eyes well, now turquoise and scared and I can almost hear the fissures in her heart spread like cracks on a windshield that just got smacked with a rock. "I'm sorry, San. I didn't mean to get carri-" She bites her bottom lip in that way that makes my spine evaporate.

"No baby, no. I want you to. Yes. I need you to actually. I do."

She lunges for me again but I stop her, placing my hand firmly on her sternum. She's so warm. I can feel her heart thunder in my open palm.

Her voice cracks when she replies, "So what's wrong, San?" She wraps her fingers around my open hand on her chest "You're scaring me."

"Dear god Brittany," I kiss her knuckles and continue. "I want you to touch me everywhere." I kiss her open hand. "I do. I miss you so much and I'm so-"

Brittany stops my words with a delicate and apologetic kiss.

"Exactly!" she whispers, coyly. "I mean- you're so turned on ri-"

"Shhhhhh. Baby. Shhhh." I press my outstretched finger to her partially open lips. I sit us both up, take her hands in mine, push her hair behind her ears one side at a time. I hear my voice, as winded as her face is flushed. I force her chin up with my hand and make her look me in the eye.

"I need you to listen to me Britt Britt. I want to spend the next however many days it takes for us to kiss and touch and love enough to feel whole again. But right now-" I swallow. Hard. "We've got to go to school."

Brittany immediately deflates, wipes her mouth and releases my hands from her own. Charlie Brown starts to underscore from Brittany's phone. Finn must be shitting bricks.

"Baby. That's Finn. He's calling because he needs you. They all need you. You have a show to sing. You've got to go back. I promised."

"You promised?" she says, defiant, climbing off the bed and looking at me with more distrust than I've ever seen in her before.

Completely forgetting the fib that my mother needed me for the weekend, I spill my total betrayal of the entire Glee club at her feet. "Yes. I promised. And I promised I wouldn't tell you that they called me asking for help, but ever since you went bat-shit crazy AWOL yesterday, everyone's been calling me and texting me and freaking out all over themselves. You scared the crap out of everyone Britt. You scared the crap out of me. I thought something was like seriously wrong. Like you took some crazy fucking drug, or something horrible happened to one of your parents. Or Sam did something he wasn't coming clean about when he called last night. I mean come on Britt! You know my imagination is a scary scary place-"

"You talked to Sam?"

"And the things I can imagine were far worse than you getting into MIT and getting ready to bounce! Yea I talked to Sam. He was terrified of you. For you! And don't even start on Mr. Shue and Finn. Good god. I had to shut the damn phone off to save the battery on the train home."

We stood in the middle of Brittany's room as Lord Tubbinton watched from the bed like he was at Wimbledon. The conversation volleyed at rapid speed, then just stopped. Brittany tilts her head to one side and narrows her eyes like lasers.

"They called you because they were worried about me? Or because they were pissed that they couldn't do this competition with out me?" Brittany's smug smirk was hotter than hot; I've got to say.

"Probably a little bit of both, but I mean, a fire? Really? You don't think that was taking it a little too far? Or did you miss me so much you had to try to pull a Lopez all up in that joint?"

"I thought you would have loved the fire part." She giggles a little and starts to stare at her hands again.

"Of course I loved it! Girl! I was so impressed." I wrap my arms around her neck like we we're slow dancing. Her weight shifts from foot to foot. "Talk about going big! But you can't give up on Glee now Britt Britt. You can sing at Regional's and THEN go be a super fly math genius okay?"

Brittany takes my arms off of her neck like a necklace, gently kisses my hands and grabs her phone. Almost immediately she starts to panic.

"O.M.G. It's already 4:00 Santana."

"4:00?"

"4:04 actually. I, I, I don't know what to-"

"4:04. Crap. Well then let's grab your dress, and get the hell out of here. And I gotta change. I'm a mess. It looks like someone just jumped me."

Brittany snickers. Impressed with herself and the skirt riding up near my waist, the wrinkles all over my top. I grab my bag, my fabulous new green dress, my dress shoes, my own phone and find six missed calls and about a dozen text messages. Damn we must have been out cold when we fell asleep! We trip into each other running into the bathroom at the same time.

As we hustle down the stairs of Brittany's parent's house I can hear the echoes of our child selves ricochet off the walls with our footfalls. I can see the flair of Britt's cheerio's skirt in my head like it was right in front of me. Years of laughter and joy and adventure press up against my body as I reach out for the doorknob.

Brittany collapses into me from behind and we let the momentum and fear of being so late bring us to a stop at the door. This house has gravity. Almost all of our firsts happened here. We grew exponentially in this adorable split-level house on a cul-de-sac in Lima, Ohio, in so, so many ways. Today is no exception. I have no idea what this is that's shifting. But it feels tectonic. And it feels good.

So I turn to face Brittany and take her face in my hands. I feel her smile into my kiss with wet cheeks pressed to my own.

"Why are you crying baby?"

"I'm just so happy, Santana. I'm so happy that you're home. I'm so happy that I get to sing with the Glee Club one more time and I'm so happy that you'll see it and I'm so so STUPID happy that I get to finally leave."

"Stupid happy huh?"

"Yea. 'Stupid', as a synonym for 'very'. I'm reclaiming the word." Her languid smile stops my heart for a second and I have to remind it to keep beating.

"Ah, I see." I reply. Good god, she's brilliant, I sigh, on the inside, just as my phone starts to vibrate the tune of dancing roaches in the outer pocket of my purse.

Brittany grabs my ass, then my phone, and tries to answer it herself, but I snatch it out of her hands just so I can say, "Get your panties out of their bundle Mr. Shue, I've got my Brittz and we're on our way." I hang up before he can even respond and push us both out the door.

"And you little lady, let's just say I'm stupid excited for the horizontal tango that's on my dance card for later."

"Excellent!" Brittany giggles as she clicks her seatbelt into place, and slides open the moonroof above. "We've got so much dancing to do, Santana! But can we get some snacks? I'm stupid hungry."

This feels so utterly ordinary. Hoping in my car with Brittany to get to school. Late for rehearsal with bed head because we lost track of time messing around. Yet at the same time it also feels absolutely new and thrilling.

"Me too baby. Me too."

She ties our fingers in a knot on the center console, but while we're stopped at a light - because Quinn would obviously kill me otherwise - I quickly pull mine away to text my mom.

**Mami: **Got the girl, forgot the hat. See you tomorrow! Besos!

"Now let's go win this dang thing!" Brittany squeals waving her hands into the sunshine above her head.

And in that moment I could not be more proud of or in love with Brittany Susan Pierce- this most secretly brilliant, redonkulously sexy and spectacularly wonderful woman on earth.


	6. Chapter 6

**I own nothing other than my interpretation of the Gleeniverse. I did not create these characters nor their epic love.**

**Embarrassing spelling and typographical errors, sadly, all mine. Love this ship.**

**Thank you for your kind and enthusiastic reviews. I hope you are still enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it! **

**Would love to hear from you! :)**

**_Go Big and Go Home_**

**Chapter 6**

* * *

Most hilarious thing about being in love with a girl? Two people, trying to hold hands, while running in heels. Well it isn't always hilarious; but right now, in the movie in my mind, Brittany and I, running from the very last row of the William McKinley High School Parking Lot, in heels, is as comical and tragic as Sponge Bob Square Pants strolling across a beach in the high noontide sun.

Brittany is adorable though, wearing her purple competition dress and fabulous open-toed Mary Jane character shoes that are actually like a sexy sneaker with heels. Then there am I, wearing the obscenely sexy stilettos I brought to match this fabulous green dress that Kurt brought home from his fashionista internship. Basically Brittany is running like a glorious gazelle, dragging me behind like a baby giraffe unsure of its legs, and I'm trying desperately not to break an ankle. This would have been easier if she'd just thrown me over her shoulder and booked it.

McKinley is hosting the Midwest Regionals Competition, home court advantage yay! But there are cars from three states filling our lot, boo! Thus I am almost nostalgic for the days when I bullied my way into a faculty parking spot in exchange for my silence regarding Sue's obscenely manipulative scare tactics. Sure Figgie, I'll keep my moth shut about the bribes, the steroids, and the baby-faced 22-year-old Cheerio gymnasts that she sneaks into cheerleading competitions with McKinley IDs, so long as I get to park next to the door and never be marked late ever again. Damn, I hope that high school was NOT my peak.

As we cross the threshold and my legs start to regain their ability to function, the building buzzes with palpable excitement. Friends and family from all over the region mill and seethe waiting for the auditorium doors to open. There are stunning little black and red dresses on beautiful girls, cute nerdy choir boys in matching tuxedos and nervous parents spitting on their thumbs, rubbing their child's faces, smoothing out creases and giving sweet pep talks. They all seem so incredibly young and I can't imagine that this was me – minus the obnoxious parents, mind you - just a year ago. New York feels a million miles away. Oh god. Where is Kurt? I would give my favorite push up bra to hug that old queen right now.

Despite the noise and crowd, Britt stops and centers herself with her lovely strong hands firmly on my shoulders. In these heels we're actually about eye level and time feels like it stops when her big blues plug into what she calls my "puppy dog peepers". Then the obnoxious blaring of the PA system over-rides the chatter with Ms. Pillsbury's adorable pre-show announcement and snaps me back to the present.

"Good Afternoon Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to William McKinley High School – Go Titens! Home of National Show Choir Champs, The New Directions!"

You can hear Tina, Sugar and even Sam and the others hoot and holler in the background. They are obviously in the room with her and Pillsbury giggles like a 12-year-old and I can't help but want to hoot and holler too.

Brittany starts to bounce on her heels and leans in for a kiss. But I see Mr. Shue tearing through the bodies of strangers from across the throng of nervous singers and their coordinating adults. The announcement continues.

"We're so honored to be your hosts for the 2013 Greater Midwest Show Choir Regionals. Now can all choirs please report to their designated classrooms to meet their directors. Right. Now. Um. Thank you."

I stop Brittany's advance, mouth almost hanging open as she leans into my airspace, "Britt, its time, baby." I choke out the command, not wanting to give her back. We haven't been alone for this long since probably August and the thought of even being in separate rooms right now makes my stomach film inside out. "You have to go."

"No. Santana. Wait." My name spills from of her mouth like a symphony and her fingers curl over my shoulders and into my skin as the guidance counselor formally known as 'Almost Mrs. Schuster' giggles on.

"Friends and Family we will be opening the house in 15 minutes." Then in her most serious commanding voice she bellows, "Choirs we are 1 hour from show time!"

Mr. Schue lunges towards us, splitting the crowd like Moses parting the sea. I can see him over Brittany's shoulder and he can see me. His eyes are wide and pleading. He's mouthing "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" But time seems to stand still as the crowd swells and recedes from around our little bubble. I look back to my Brittany to find her focus on me disarming. My stomach, which had just previously flipped, suddenly drops. But Brittany's smile is mature. Adult. Clear. Humble. Beautiful.

"I just wanted to say, thank you. For getting me here. For helping the Glee Club, yet again. You're so fiercely loyal. I hope they all get that. Finally."

"Brittany, stop. I would do anything for you. I hope YOU finally get that."

I run my thumbs just under her eyes. I don't want her to cry and run her mascara. "There's nothing to cry about now. It is all going to be okay."

It has to be. It must.

"I know." She says shyly. "And I would do-"

"Brittany! Santana!" Mr. Shue shouts as he wraps each of his long arms around our necks and crushes us in a soul-smashing embrace. "I have never been so happy to see the two of you!"

"You ready Britt Britt?" I chirp, perhaps a little to forced and transparent for even Mr. Shue.

"I uh, Mr. Shue?" Brittany says. "I have to talk to you."

She faces him and takes my hand in her own.

"Mr. Shue. I'm really sorry I went AWOL and you had to get Santana to come rescue me. But I'm here now and I'm ready and I wanted you to know that I love you and I love Glee Club but I am..."

I don't know if she's going to tell him about MIT, or about this morning, or what her agenda is. But I can see her heart fluttering in her chest. Her breath is shallow and I can feel her hand shaking in mine. I make small circles with my thumb on the back of her palm trying to offer some grounding clam but the frenetic Mr. Shue interrupts. He's not listening to Brittany. Again. I could smack him.

"Brittany, yes. Of course. I love you too. I love you TWO. You are the.."

But he cuts himself off and really looks at Brittany's face trembling. I feel my eyebrows wrinkle and Brittany's hand tighten around my palm. Mr. Shue totally ships this. Mr. Shue totally gets this. Mr. Shue totally better not fuck this up.

"We can't get emotional yet girls. Not yet. First. We've got to get back to the choir room. We've got thirty minutes to run our set before we have to be seated. And we still don't have Ryder."

Brittany's eyes bug out of her head.

"What?" she gasps and stares at the linoleum tile under her dancing shoes.

"But at least we're slated to go last!?"

And with that we were swept through the crowd towards the choir room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Whoop Whoop! Double Chapter Day!**

**I own nothing other than my interpretation of the Gleeniverse. I did not create these characters nor their epic love.**

**Embarrassing spelling and typographical errors, sadly, all mine. Love this ship.**

**Thank you for your kind and enthusiastic reviews. **

**Would love to hear from you! :)**

**_Go Big and Go Home_**

**Chapter 7**

* * *

Brittany freezes in the doorframe when she sees the others running through choreography. It looks like they're trying to teach a dance number to Becky Jackson? Oh my, this is not a good sign. When Brittany adds up what she's seeing she bolts to the bathroom before anyone can see her.

Shue places his hand on my shoulder and holds me in place. Tina sees me first. Then Puck 2.0, Mercedes. Mike. They're gap jawed. Anxious. Scared even? Tina looks likes she might vomit. Marley ducks behind Unique like a human shield. Sam steps forward from the back and waits. His mouth looks small. He looks small. I think I can actually see his heart beating. Small.

Finn pushes past Shue and pulls me back out into the hall.

"Santana. You're here. Santana. Thank you. Thank god…" is all he can say before he smothers me in his man boobs and hugs me under his big ol' blockhead. "Where's Britt? Sam said, you told Mr. Shue she was coming."

"Settle down Charlie Brown." I can feel, and smell, the panic radiating off of his sweaty body. "She's having a moment. This is harder for her than you can even wrap your puny head around. I got her dressed and I got her here. But you're going to have to do some damage control to get her on stage. Okay?"

He nods like a petulant child before saying "Um, so what do I do now?"

"Gettchur ass into the ladies' room and figure it out. I thought you were a leader Finn? So go, lead, or something."

But before I could even flip my hair dramatically over my shoulder and exit this tiresome exchange I find myself in a Mercedes and Mike sandwich that is pulling me back inside the choir room. Mike leans into my ear conspiratorially, "Just so you know, I've talked to Ryder. He's working things out with Mr. Shue backstage as we speak, but we're still down one singer."

Mercedes stops our feet from shuffling under our hug with, "San, come on now, where the hell is Brittany?"

"She's a little rattled. But she's here."

"Is she cool? Are you cool? I mean what's up? These guys are terrified of cray-cray Brittany right now!"

Sam steps closer trying to hear our hushed whispers but when I make eye contact with him, he quickly refocuses elsewhere and hustles towards the door. But he immediately face-plants right into all six foot three of Finn who escorts him right back into the group.

"It's all good Sammy boy, I need you to take your place for the last warm up, and just trust me, okay?"

Sam always does what he's told. Finn passes through, counting heads, and disappears out the opposite door muttering, "… five, six, seven. Seven? We lost another one? Jesus…"

Finally answering Mercedes I say, "Give her some time," loud enough for everyone to hear. "She'll be here". Their unison exhalations fill the room with something suspended between dread and hope. I must admit it was a radical improvement.

Sugar Motta snuggles up beside me and threads her tiny impressively manicured fingers between mine. "Hi Mama," she coos, nuzzling her crown of over hair-sprayed locks, into the crook of my neck. "I'm stupid excited that you're here."

I chuckle, "stupid ha", under my breath and hug her hard and then one at a time the others make their way to Mercedes, Mike and I. They're nervous and insecure and looking for something to ground them to the planet before their anxiety floats them into the stratosphere. And I can't help but acknowledge that this show choir thing, this Glee thing, really is their entire universe and it very well might collapse like a house of cards. I can't believe I'm even thinking this but for a split second I wish Quinn and Rachel were here too. This feels wrong without them. One of them would know what to say. What to do. How to make this better. But my heart is in my throat and I can't think of a useful thing to say so I lean into Artie's chair like my life depends on it, or maybe just to take some of the pressure off of my poor feet crammed into these ridiculous shoes.

Tina sneaks in and hugs me from behind. Turns me around and apologizes for being a heartless bitch of a gossip while she holds me so tight that I almost stop breathing. I thank her for her sincerity and pat myself on the back for teaching her so well. Marley bursts into tears in my arms and says thank you, confesses that she's gained seven and a half pounds and has never felt better. Sam just hugs me politely and says nothing. What can he say? What can I say? Who should apologize to whom? Is there a winner in the battle for Brittany's heart? I'm not sure. Artie just gives me a look that is surprisingly full of empathy. He grabs my hand for a moment like he's about to say something profound but before he can, I interrupt, "You know I'm expecting big things from you Abrams. You better bring the dang house down with that sexy voice of yours!"

The tension momentarily shatters, everyone cheers and eventually we dissolve into small talk with shifty eyes glued hopefully to the doors. Brittany? Ryder? Shue? Ryder? Pillsbury? Brittany? We're counting down the few minutes left before seating and we still definitely do not have enough purple and black clad New Directions ready to go.

The lights start to flash indicating that it's time to take our seats just in time for Mr. Shue to run in with Ryder close behind. Ryder palms Jake's back as the two break into sprints for the auditorium doors. The rest of the team follows behind with Mercedes, Mike and I taking up the end of the pack. I hold Mercedes even further back as Mike exits into the hall and we slowly make our way.

"Hey is Burt okay? Kurt's dad? Has Kurt been around?"

"Oh he's around," Mercedes croons. "Why do you think those purple dresses look so damn fierce? Kurt added the black crinolines this morning. And don't worry, he made one for Brittany too. And Burt is great. As of last week he's cancer free!"

"Good god! That is the best fucking news I've heard all day." I cheer, fist pumping my hands over my head.

Mercedes chortles, "When did you become a grown up Santana Lopez?"

"The first time I wrote my own rent check."

"Preach Girl! You don't have to tell me twice. Makes all this high school drama sound like a walk in the park, don't it?"

"You know it!"

"Ladies! Ladies! Ladies! Let me escort you to your seats!" Kurt exclaims, running up and wrapping his arms around each of our waists as if he could scoop us up. His arrival brings tears to my eyes so I grab him by his skinny little head and hug with my whole damn self.

"Santana! Golly! Didn't know how much you cared!" Then in a hushed whisper, "Did you see him? He's filled out. He's totally filled out, right? Like he looks more like a man than a boy right?"

"Yes, Kurt, Blaine is looking F-I-N-E!" Mercedes agrees with a smile.

My jaw drops.

"Oh my god Kurt. You were totally just hooking up with Blaine somewhere! That's who was missing! You DIRTY little man! Wipe that shit-eating grin off of your pretty little face! Here I am so excited about the great news about your dad and you're, oh my god. I can't."

"So don't!" Kurt sing-songs swinging Mercedes' and my hands by his sides as he practically skips us through the doors of the auditorium.

As we make our way to the empty seats near Mr. Shuster, we see Blaine scurry passed the general audience seating into the area where the other choirs are patiently waiting their turn. He slides into the row, passing Unique, when he turns around to smile at Kurt. He stops and sees me too. Looks at the floor. Looks up again and waves a sheepish little wave. "Thank you," he mouths and bows his head like a true gentleman, before turning to face the stage. Just then, the house lights go out, the audience goes wild, the lights on stage explode and the Waffletoots begin.

Halfway through a version of "Somewhere over the Rainbow" more suited for a nursing home than a show choir competition Sam scoots out of his row and tries to make a break for it. My guess is he's still trying to be the hero that finds and delivers Brittany.

But I'm sitting next to Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Shue is right on the other side of her. When Sam tries to pass I don't really feel like I have a place to stop him but Shue reaches his long arm passed Ms. P, over me, and his fingertips graze Sam's arm. When he stops in his tracks the look Shue shoots him over my head has a harsher scolding than any words possibly could. Sam retreats. But stays in the aisle near by.

I pull my phone out and quickly shoot off a text.

**To Britty Baby: **Are you okay pumpkin? The second choir's set is almost over. What are you hiding from love? Meet us for show circle? xx

She replies almost instantly.

**From Britty Baby:** I'm right behind you. xo

I turn to see Brittany, with her hair neatly braided, her make up finished and an overwhelming sense of calm. She is radiant. When she smiles her eyes twinkle and I can't tell if it is the soft sheen of tears or the heavy application of some serious sparkly shadow, but either way, she's stunning.

When I smile at her she inhales sharply and the sound catches Sam's attention. He immediately pounces on her with a warm embrace and escorts her down to the rest of the team. I almost reach out after them as they pass but I know this really just isn't about me and for the next few hours I can step back and let Sam find the closure he needs.

But when Brittany looks back at me and her eyes glisten and smiles her most lovely and adoring smile, Ms. Pillsbury gasps and puts her hand gently on my shoulder and softly exclaims, "Santana!" Then she leans gently towards my ear, getting close enough that I can smell the gummy bears on her breath and whispers "Brittney's heart totally belongs to you, doesn't it?"

I can feel my cheeks flush. I've always had a soft spot for Emma Pillsbury because she always had a soft spot for love. I turned to her wiping a tiny tear from my cheek unable to conceal my smile. "Oh I know, Ms. P, I've had that shit on lock down since the seventh grade." She claps like a sea otter in approval. Her adorable excitement is almost too much.


	8. Chapter 8

**I own nothing other than my interpretation of the Gleeniverse. I did not create these characters nor their epic love.**

**Embarrassing spelling and typographical errors, sadly, all mine. Love this ship.**

**Thank you for your kind and enthusiastic reviews.**

**Would love to hear from you! :)**

**_Go Big and Go Home_**

**Chapter 8**

* * *

With the thunderous applause for our sexy-as-fuck competition, Mr. Shue springs from his seat and starts ushering all twelve New Directions from the audience back to the choir room. The Hoosierdaddies were no freakin' joke and you can tell that the McKinley kids are shaking in their dancing shoes. Those kids from Indianapolis had more street sass than Ohio even knew existed. I mean, they crumped and wailed at the same time and their front woman was the size of a Polly Pocket! Most of the New Directions look like they've wet their painties, except Brittany of course, because she's got her dance face on, fists pumping in front of her chin and she's twerking her way down the hall she's so excited. I could watch that girl dance for the rest of my life and so not get board. Seriously.

"Santana!"

I snap back to planet real time to find Ms. Pillsbury waving her diamond-encrusted left hand in front of my eyes. Humm. I guess the wedding is back on? I consider wiping the twerk-inspired drool off of my chin while she continues.

"Sorry, Santana, would you do me a favor?"

"Of course. Ms. P. What do you need? I think my work here is otherwise done." I boast, waving ahead to Brittany strutting her stuff into the choir room, but she reaches back, grabs my hand and squeezes three times. Pillsbury's grins and flushes at the overtly romantic gesture.

Brittany drops my hand, only to blow me a silly kiss, and scurries ahead to pull Mr. Shue aside from the team. Ms. Pillsbury continues, "But really Santana, you can call me Emma now. There's no need to be so formal. I mean formal as in Wedding as in, can you keep a secret?"

My eyes expand. She leans into my shoulder and giggles, "Will and I are getting married." She sucks in her bottom lip. "After the competition."

I hear what Ms. Pills_… Emma_ is saying, but in my mind I'm too busy thinking about Brittany's publicly affection. I mean she broke up with Sam YESTERDAY, in front of all these people, and as much as I love the attention I can't lie and say that I don't feel a little awkward. But there she is thrusting her hips in that sexy purple dress and there is a horizontal tango with my name written all over it… Santana Snap Out Of It!

"Oh. Wow. Emma! White dress! Yes! A turn of luck! Oh. Wow! Emma! Eek!"

Why am I squealing like a schoolgirl? What the hell Lopez? You spend one morning kissing Britt Britt and your entire personality changes? My own blithering love-drunk idiocy is starting to make me want to hurl. Or jump up and down and applaud like a water mammal. Not sure. It could go either way.

"That is wonderful. Congratulations! When? Where? Are you leaving right from here? But what if we win?"

"Kind of. I mean. We have to win! But the favor, it would be really lovely if you could tell Will, I mean Mr. Shue, yes Will, that I did not leave! But I had to politely excuse Finn from the proceedings. I just don't think. I mean. I don't feel…"

"Oh, I've got you Emma. I totally get it. Lumps the Clown has no business being any where near your wedding, nor anywhere near me for that matter. He hugged me so hard and was so grateful that I showed up to bail his ass out, yet again, that I almost forgot how much he just sucks."

She withholds comment, exhales confidently, and her perfect strawberry bob, well, bobs.

"So speaking of your wedding- by the look of your shaky hands and your perfect, white, no-nonsense dress, this is actually happening like tonight? Is the justice of the peace open after business hours?"

"Actually, he's coming here. Right here. To the choir room," she says matter-of-factly as we cross the threshold and she ushers me toward the gathering show circle. "Now I will be _right back_. You make sure Will knows I'm NOT leaving. Him. You. All of you. Ever." And with that she flutters back out of the room like Tinkerbelle.

Santana Lopez is rarely rendered speechless.

Emma Pillsbury-soon-to-be-Schuester has rendered Santana Lopez dumb.

Or maybe it is just this day? Too many feelings. Too little sleep? Too overwhelming. Too wonderful. Too much? Or just not enough time – to get to Mr. Scheuster before show circle begins. He's calling for us to gather and I run to stand beside Brittany, because I'm always next to Brittany in the show circle because I want to hold her hand, obviously. But Mr. Scheuster himself stands between us as if to create a barrier between Brittany and me. And as soon as I see her face I know why. She's already crying. And this time, I have to let her.

I scan the circle itself and Mr. McGriddles is nowhere to be found, thank god. Kurt and Blaine bat their pretty little lashes at one another. Kitty is shifty-eyed. Marley looks like a rabbit and Artie stairs motionlessly at his motionless feet. I feel my eyes start to well and I feel Mr. Scheuster squeezing my hand and I can't help but wonder if Brittany is squeezing his and he's just kind enough to pass it on.

When Brittany drops the MIT bomb wrapped in the most preciously earnest apology I've ever heard, my heart swells with pride and my lungs slowly cease their function. Tina and Sugar openly sob and I can't even blame them. Brittany has been the heart and soul of this family for years. I can't even imagine what glee club would be like without her royal unicorn-self setting the standard at least a half mile beyond fabulous. Yet she thanks them all for their unicorn-selves and only manages to throw in a half a dozen jokes for good measure. Jim? Seriously Britt? She knows his name is Joe. She's just messing with him and that's why I love her. In the middle of this hugely emotionally significant moment Brittany finds humor in the pain and doles it out like pixie sticks.

Even when she's wrapped her long arms around Trout Master Sam, I cannot help but feel her sense of release. She does love him. She will miss him. But she doesn't need him and she finally trust that. I finally trust that. And Mr. Shue holds my hand tighter, keeping my swelling heart in my pounding chest, my restless feet anchored to the floor. Brittany let's each of them go almost like she's offering a benediction on her time in their company. And I hate that Emma is missing this moment to deal with Finn. She's worked so hard to get Brittany ready for graduation. She cares for Brittany. She cares for us. Just thinking about more injustice caused by Finn Hudson makes me want to shove his fat head into a locker and slam it, over and over and over again. But before I can shake that image from my vividly violent imagination Brittany crosses the circle toward me.

"And then there's Santana." Brittany's voice is beautiful, specific, tiny and as soon as she feels my name on her tongue I can see her resolve shatter. The sob erupts so gently but when our bodies meet and our arms wrap around shaky shoulders, I shatter too and I feel a sob escaping my closing throat. I'm not sure why we're crying because I'm never saying good bye to Brittany ever again. We've the $20 Chinatown Bus. And I force my eyes up because diving my face into the crook of Brittany's neck will not improve the awkwardly public tenderness of this moment. And we're going to do better this time. Brittany told me herself so I remind her, "Britty, you don't have to say anything" before she says too much. I hold her as close as I can and I can feel her heart beat into mine and for a fleeting moment and I know that Brittany is okay. We're okay. This whole thing is okay. And yes Brittany "No more cries."

Everyone piles into the center in a rising celebration and Mr. Shue meets my eyes with a watery smile. Mr. Shue ships this. Mr. Shue gets this. Mr. Shue didn't fuck this up.

"AAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhh-Maaaaaaaaaaaaay-Ziiiiiiiiiii ngggggggg!"

I smile at Brittany across the way and mouth to her in silence.

"Britty Baby YOU are ah-may-zing!"

She curtsies a little, traces a heart over her sternum, and winks her way to the stage.


	9. Chapter 9

**I own nothing other than my interpretation of the Gleeniverse. I did not create these characters nor their epic love.**

**Embarrassing spelling and typographical errors, sadly, all mine. **

**Love this ship.**

**Dang! There was so much going on in the subtext of 4x22; I didn't even realize it until I started writing. I never thought in a million years it would take me this many chapters to get to the end! **

**I'm so grateful for the positive feed back and shout outs! Yay!**

**Thank you for your kind and enthusiastic reviews.**

**Would love to hear from you! :)**

**_Go Big and Go Home_**

**Chapter 9**

* * *

As the lights began to flicker us all back to our seats Kurt grabs my shoulder and squeezes it hard.

"Oh mah gawd! I can't even handle this stress!" he squeaks, fanning himself with the flimsy program.

"Princess, un-ruffle your panties and remember to breathe. The last thing Blaine needs is some hot EMS guy fondling you back from the dead."

I plop down in front of Kurt's appreciative chuckle as the lights explode and some regal swagger fills the stage. They are calm, cool, classy and completely in control. Artie fucking Abrams ROCKS it. Seriously. It's like The New Directions finally believe their own reputation. Even without Mercedes. Even without, well, Kurt and Finn and Quinn and Puck and I guess even without... me. And I don't even mind. They're champions and they know it. "Hall of Fame" totally shows off their strengths and they are just so grown up and elegant up there! My little Sugar looks like a queen. Brittany just glows. She makes everything look so effortless and she's having a blast. Even Sam. With that terrible hair flip that makes him look like Provincetown Ken, he's singing better than ever! They all are. And they haven't had a rehearsal with everyone together in how long? This is nothing short of a show choir miracle. And I'm just stupid, stupid proud.

As the girls come downstage Emma leans over again and says "Oh Santana you're gonna love this!" and it is Icona Pop! These baby girls may not be The Troubletones but when "I love it! I don't care!" Starts pulsing through the speakers I find myself standing, cheering and fist pumping with Emma Pillsbury like we're besties. And this choreography? Totally sexy. Totally adorable. And totally not trashy like Polly Pocket Powerhouse and friends were before. Brittany Susan Pierce. What a sassy little bitch. She stages herself subtly in the back, not drawing attention to her super fly moves, but this choreography is all Brittany.

_I don't care! _

_I love it!_

Then the music settles for the ballad and I grit my teeth wondering if they can really pull this off with out the power of Micro-Barbara Berry and I don't recognize the song but before I can ask, Mr. Shue looks over to me and says, "Marley wrote it. And it's awesome" and he's right.

Blaine and Marley make a great vocal pairing – completely free from the awkward sexual chemistry that always got in the way with Rachel and Finn. They can truly lead musically and the rest of the team fans out around them as their voices swell, and so does everything I've been feeling for the last twenty-four hours.

_This is my life_

_I'm not gonna live it twice_

_There's no in-between_

_Take it too extremes_

I'm just so full of everything. And that everything can't help but spill from my eyes. Emma casually passes me a tissue and I peek to see if Kurt can see me crying. But actually I turn to see that he's stone still, white as a sheet, with tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Hey honey, honey, you okay?" I implore.

Blaine is front and center. Singing his heart out. Singing to Kurt. Begging for another chance.

_I can't give up_

_Can't just let it burn_

_And watch the fire_

_I started turn to dust _

"Why am I so nervous?" he chokes.

Could the answer be any more obvious? Could Kurt be any more oblivious?

"Because you still love him, you dope." I blurt out, almost wishing I could take it back. But I'm grateful to see Kurt smile instead of smack the back of my head.

He just nods into the tears, snatches my tissue and blots without comment.

_Nothing can stop us now!_

_There was never a shadow of doubt…_

The New Directions finish their impassioned set standing like royalty in the footlights. They're putting it all out there. They're putting themselves on that line heart and soul. They're as connected to the crowd as they are to each other and I'm just so humbled and so impressed to be part of their legacy.

_It's All or Nothing_

_All or Nothing _

_At all!_

The audience response sounds like the Fourth of July and Mr. Shue and Ms. Pillsbury jump into each other's arms. Their mouths crash into a celebratory smooch and he wraps his big arms around her tiny shoulders like both a proper gentleman and an awkward seventeen-year-old boy at the same time. Kurt and I lock eyes and share a pang of envy, turning back to the stage to see Blaine and Brittany both clamoring for Sam, shouting and celebrating, arms wrapped around bodies, eyes filled with joy, radiating so much love.

We're not surprised when they win. We're not surprised at all.

Mr. Scheuster hugs Mercedes and Mike and thanks them for their help. And he hugs me too. Then Kurt's eyes widen as he exclaims, "Where's Finn? Oh my god, where's Finn? I can't believe he missed this!"

"Don't worry Kurt," Mrs. Pillsbury intercepts, looking me dead in the eyes.

"Finn had to run back to campus. Puck was with campus police, again, and needed him to get back into their room."

She smiles like it's the greatest news of the century. I completely agree.

Then Shue adds, "He'll probably make it back for the pizza party in an hour or so. So he won't miss everything Kurt. No worries."

With that Emma bounces away into the hall, Shue palms Kurt's back so hard it winds him, and Mercedes and I share a laugh. Finn. Puck. Classic.

"It's a shame Rachel couldn't be here," Mercedes pouts.

"Truth. But hey, for _Funny Girl?_ I'd have missed it too."

Mercedes rolls her eyes and laughs right at me and I don't even care.

"Wait? Who am I kidding. No I wouldn't. Night even a little."

"That's my girl!" Mercedes says, smiling her big momma smile. She then kisses my cheek and spins me around to face the stage before disappearing into the crowd.

The out-of-towner audience thins into the hall and then into the parking lot and then into the night and the McKinley kids evaporate into the wings. I wait in the back of the theatre until the stillness seeps in and silence settles on the stage. Mercedes knew I wouldn't leave. I can't leave because Brittany won't leave the stage and I won't leave Brittany.

The remnants of the pyrotechnics fill the air with the same royal purple as her dress. From a distance I can't quite make out her features, but I know she's there. I can still feel her presence in the room like an invisible string pulling at my chest. Pulling me to her. I can make out the golden shine of her hair in the flashing lights and the adorably goofy way she sits down. Her feet point in a little, her knees spread like a trucker, and her arms lean on her thighs like she's completely over-dressed to judge a marmalade contest at a state fair. But the tech team starts to shut down the light board and one at a time sections of color snap off until its just beautiful Brittany cradled in a pool of the gentle work light, which they are kind enough not to turn off.

As I climb the stairs behind her I can see the smile spread into her shoulders. She knows who it is. Who else would wear these ridiculously loud shoes?

Her eyes beg "are you proud of me?" without her having to say a word. I hope she can hear "of course I am" overflowing my smile in return. Her perfectly bow-shaped mouth twists to the side as I reach out my hand. She could have simply wrapped her fingers in mine but instead she scrunches her shoulders into my armpit and snuggles into my side. We head off stage right with our arms wrapped around each other's waists and I'm so grateful to have shared this moment with Brittany. Gratitude. Completion. Pride.

I'm also really glad I didn't wimp out and change into my flip flops, because you know, I gotta tell you, being the little one kinda of sucks sometimes. But in these six inch strut makers I'm a good two inches taller than Brittany. I could get used to this wrap-my-arms-around-you-baby thing, even if I have to wear sick stilettos to do it.

We cross into the dark of the backstage wing space and I pat myself on the virtual back for accomplishing my mission. I turn giddy knowing that just a few minutes from now we are going to be guests at a pop up wedding that none of the glee kids see coming. I reach my left hand for the back stage door but Brittany grabs my wrist.

I turn to her in the dark but my eyes haven't adjusted and I try to pull back towards the work light still present on stage. But the final switch clicks into place and the entire space plunges into darkness.

I hear the air suck into my throat before I even feel it. I can't feel anything but the warm pressure of Brittany's tongue on the inside of my wrist, inching up to the inside of my arm, to my shoulder, to my collarbone, my neck, to my ear. I'm unsteady on my feet. She pulls back from beside my silly grin to look at me in the dark. We both strain to focus but I can only register the tiny glistening shine in her wide and pleading eyes. I feel Brittany's nose circle my nose. Brittany's hands clasping my hands. Brittany's breath spills onto my lips in tiny shuttering exhalations. Brittany's lips tracing my lips. Brittany's heart beating in my palms.

"Santana, take me home" she says.

Her words feel like a cry, or a prayer.

Her hands slide to the small of my back and their warmth radiates all the way up to that most vulnerable space right between my collarbones.

As if she can feel me think about that space, where my throat dips underneath muscle and bone, she kisses it so gently, right there under my chin. Her tongue traces languishing circles of sweet adoration and my head falls back. My arms slack and I can't think clearly at all until I just start walking. I have no sense of distance and how far we are from the door, but it only takes three strides before I push Brittany up against the cold stone of the wall, our lips crashing almost as hard as our boney hips.

We collapse into a kiss that is slow, aching and deliberate. It feels like there are hands everywhere. Thighs everywhere. Heat everywhere.

I feel myself falling so far into Brittany, so fast, so now, so right, so please, so much longing, so much need, that when the door slams open and Marley Rose steps into the dark shouting, "Britt? You okay? Santana? Hello?"

She doesn't even see us in the perfect triangle of light spilling in from the hall, nor do we stop touching until Brittany lets out the tiniest of moans and Marley snaps around and the door slams shut and all three of us freeze in an awkward and silent blackout.

"Hey Marley...?" I shatter the silence. I can feel myself smirk, then giggle. I can feel Brittany thread her fingers in mine as her breathing starts to settle into shoulders bouncing in embarrassed laughter.

"Santana!" she almost squeals. "I'm so so so sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. Oh god. This is so embarrassing. I didn't know you guys… oh god. I'm so sorry."

Brittany stops her rambling, "Marley, its okay. Santana doesn't bite... unless I ask nicely." Then she kisses my cheek, turns away, and triumphantly kicks open the door and struts through.

Well okay, talk about twat-swat. So I follow.

Looking back I see Marley confused and squinting into the fluorescent lights as she and I sheepishly head towards the choir room. We can already hear the others celebrating and poor Marley's blushing harder than I am. "Hey Santana, wait, let me-" she says as she licks her thumb and smudges what I presume was lipstick off of my earlobe. She then tries to rub something off of my collarbone and says "Whoopse, that's not coming off. Sorry"

"Good god Brittany" I mutter under my breath, bringing my hair over my shoulder to cover the mark. "Is that better?"

She nods affirmatively and I can't believe I'm asking a gigantically tall tenth grader to confirm that my hickey is appropriately hidden. But then again I also can't believe I almost just had sex with Brittany backstage and Marley actually saved us from ourselves.

I knew I liked this kid.

"Hey, thanks. And you were amazing tonight Marley. Really. I was truly impressed. I actually cried a little I was so proud."

"Really? Oh golly Santana. Coming from you? Thank you! Thank you so much."

"Thank YOU. Really."

I took her trembling hand in mine for a second.

"That could have gotten all kinds of crazy up in there. Really."

"Oh it's okay. I just really wanted Brittany to be there when we put the new trophy in the case and you know all the after competition stuff. It's gonna be so weird with out her you know? I mean- she's not in Massachusetts yet. This is our last night as a team."

I could see her heart sink. And I knew exactly what she meant. Life without Brittany is a total drag.

With that Brittany explodes back into the hallway and grabs both Marley and me by the arm and delivers us to the rest of the gang circled up around the piano. Marley and me. Ha. Isn't that a movie about a dog?

Marley skips her way back to Jake's teddy bear embrace, thankfully, already forgetting what she just interrupted. Maybe she'll tell him later and he'll blush too.

Sam looks up at me and smiles gently. Awkwardly. Apologetically? Generously? I just can't quite read him.

Sensing our discomfort Brittany creeps between us like she's got the best secret in the universe, "So did you hear? The New Directions won Regional's even though their most fabulous lady dancer is actually a big math nerd!?"

"Yea I heard something like that Brittany," I said wrapping my arms around waist and dropping my head to her shoulder.

"I hear she's pretty freakin' cool" he croons, his smile is warm and forgiving. His eyes a little damp. His earnest good-guy charm, sincere. "And her friends are gonna miss her like cray-zay!" he cheers, wrapping us both in an enormously surprisingly warm embrace.


	10. Chapter 10

**I own nothing other than my interpretation of the Gleeniverse. I did not create these characters nor their epic love.**

**Embarrassing spelling and typographical errors, sadly, all mine. **

**This is very raw. Lot's of dialogue. But I can't help it. I'm a playwright. Writing chapter form is hard for me. BUT I'm totally digging the practice. **

**Love this ship.**

**I used to think it funny when I'd see fic writers asking for reviews… yet here I am. What do you think?**

**_Go Big and Go Home_**

**Chapter 10**

* * *

Artie rolls up to my right with his huge camera in his lap and rings his bicycle bell to get our attention.

We break from our fragile hug and he raises just his right eyebrow as he tips his head to the side.

"Come on guys let me take a picture. This moment is ceremonious! New Directions won Regional's, again, and Brittany is standing in a Santana and Sam sandwich. Yet no one is naked… and no one is _bleeding_!"

Brittany chuckles. Sam clicks his tongue. I roll my eyes. We turn to face the camera. Sam's hand and my hand crash behind the small of Britt's back. My hand finds her waist first and he palms over mine quickly, feels my fingers there, and bounces his up to her shoulder blades instead. He and I make eye contact over the bridge of grinning Brittany's nose not knowing which one of us is wrong, or if there is a wrong at all. Brittany rises a little on her toes and all three of us snap turn and smile squarely back to Artie's lens.

"Good one Abrams" Sam retorts as the blinding flash goes off. "Thanks."

As Sam politely steps out of the frame, gently patting Brittany on the back, other glee clubbers either jump in or pull out their phones and cameras out to start snapping. Within seconds Mercedes is standing on my right, Brittany is snuggled into my left and Mike Chang is standing on his hands. Sugar climbs onto Ryder's back like she's a back pack and Marley tries to find a place where she won't be in front of someone (did I mention that she's eight feet tall – barefoot?) and won't let Mike kick her in the head. Unique's rolling video. Tina clicks away. Joe focuses an old 35mm, the hard way, and tries to balance a short tripod on a guitar case. Brittany links her pinky with mine and I feel my cheeks flush their invisible flush. I couldn't stop smiling if I tried.

Mercedes then steps into moma bear mode and says, "Okay New New Directions! Let's gather round and take some family photos for Mr. Schue! Now can all the boys line up here in the middle, and then get all those lovely ladies in purple down stage…"

I step out of the crowd with Mike while Mercedes works her magic. But Jake took off his tie, and can't find it. Kitty's hair is a mess. Who did _she_ end up in the janitor's closet with after the show? Joe's obsessed with his camera and can't stop playing with it long enough to BE in the picture and Unique keeps taking selfies while she's obviously trying to get Ryder in the shot. Oh my. They're such a hot mess and I love them.

"Where's Sammy?" Brittany exclaims from the middle of the half staged portrait. Tina now to her left, Sugar to her right. Blaine puts his hands on Brittany's shoulders and stops her impulse to leave the group.

"I'll go find him" Kurt chimes in. "He's probably just in the men's room or something."

"Kay," Brittany replies. "We just can't take this picture without him. The blonde to brown ratio would be totally off."

"Of course, Brittany" Mercedes coos. "We wouldn't leave him out. But seriously fellas? Where are the rest of ya'll? I can't believe you've been off stage for like fifteen minutes and you already look like you just rolled out of bed? Is Blaine the only gentleman in this crew who can _stay_ well dressed?"

"You know it!" Blaine agrees with a snap and the rest of the room bursts into laughter. Artie just looks confused.

"Found it!" Marley exclaims waving Jakes tie above her head and she gently throws it over his neck and uses it to pull him closer. When their lips almost meet, they both quiver and look around to see if anyone is watching. They shut the moment down when they realize just how many eyes are in the room. They don't notice me hovering near the door, though, hoping to catch Sam and apologize for the crashing hands incident when he returns, but when I watch Marley adjust Jake's newly tied tie I just keep my eyes off of them. Not in a creepy kind of way, but in an appreciative and sweet kind of way. They're so gentle with each other. The way they look at one another is precious. Her hands on his shoulders are feather light. Her gaze, reverent. His hands on her waist are comforting, confident. Secure. I wonder if that was how people could "see" Britt and me, before I could really "see" Britt and me. I'm certain that I am the biggest fool. Oh what a difference a year makes.

Kurt returns empty handed and the remaining eleven performers are assembled, smiling and restless.

"I'll get him," I say much to everyone's surprise. But as I walk out the door of the choir room I'm certain I know exactly where Sam is hiding. I strut right into the boy's locker room and there he is, staring at the tiles between his wiggly feet, purple tie flaccid in his hands.

"Hey Big Lipper, we're taking pictures. We need you back-"

He is frozen. But I can feel the tension in his body from across the room. I take a step towards him and I his shoulders bunch together like he'd been sucker punched in the guts.

"Samuel, hey? I'm sorry. Really I am. I didn't mean to-"

"Yes you did Santana. You absolutely did." His words are clipped. Accusatory.

"I didn't mean to crash my hand into your hand, okay? I didn't mean to scratch you with my nails before. I'm just easily flustered here. It's just awkward around Brittany, okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"To totally steal my girl?"

Welp. There it is.

"No. Actually Trouty, I didn't."

I am so determined to NOT loose my shit. I can control my breathing. I can choose not to scream. There is just NOT enough space in this locker room for all of Lima Heights. So I continue with an unsettling amount of calm, "I _meant_ to make sure Brittany was okay. To bring her back for the show tonight. I heard everything you said when you called me. I mean, I did everything you asked me to Sam."

"Yes, you did. And I thank you for that. We all do. But you shouldn't have turned this MIT meltdown into an opportunity to get in her pants, Santata. I saw you come back with Marley. I don't think it was her lipstick on your ear. I mean did you guys even wait until the stage was clear? Or is that why Britt was so late today? Because you needed to take care of yourself before the rest of us?"

I could feel my blood start to slosh violently around in my body. I almost slapped him. Almost. But instead I gritted my teeth and tried to string words into sentences.

"Sam. Don't. You don't understand."

"Oh I think I do Santana. You're like her fucking kryptonite."

"You know Brittany and I are way more complicated than that. She was with you for six months, Sam. We were together on and off for nearly six years. Just because you didn't know about it doesn't mean it wasn't happening. The first time we kissed was just after my 13th Birthday, Sam. 13! Brittany and I, I don't know. We just exist, okay? I can't explain it. I don't want to talk about this with you. I don't even know what _this _is. Or where _this_ is going."

"You're just going to break her heart again, Santana."

"Actually, Sam, I'm won't. But she could very well break mine."

He stands up and looks down at me. His eyes were red. Frustrated. Broken.

I try to touch him, but he flinches. I can't find the words to make this better.

"Sam, when our roles were reversed a just few months ago you had no problem telling me to forget her and move on and that I was nothing Brittany needed, but I think we all know that's just not true..."

"I know." His eyes dropped to the floor again and my jaw hung slack.

"Wait, you what? You know what?" I was all prepared to battle to the death and he was just rolling over?

"I know what you guys have is special. Okay? I knew I was just a placeholder. Hell, she even would ask me to make love to her like a girl would. She'd flip out if I forgot to shave. She… she was never NOT in love with you Santana. But I love her too. I do. And I thought we'd have more time is all. I thought I'd finish this year with her before she went running back to you. I thought-"

Hurry! Crack a joke! This is getting to intense!

"Sammy Fish Face! Sammy! Please don't cry."

"Enough with the fish jokes, okay?"

Okay don't crack jokes. Take it back. Quick.

"I'm sorry."

"I love you two. Both of you. I loved you first even. Damn it Santana. You light each other up like fucking fireflies. When you're in a room together it is hard to breathe it is so beautiful. And I don't mean that in a gross, I wanna watch way, really. I'm not fucking Finn. I mean in that I just want some one to love me the way you love her. I want someone to love me the way she loves you. I want that. I want it so badly and I thought if I could love her hard enough. If I could be her best friend. If I could make Brittany love me, I could be a firefly too, but it didn't happen. I couldn't happen. Brittany doesn't light up like that for anyone but you. I get that now. I do. And I'm sorry I didn't just bow out as soon as I…"

"Sammy Evans, stop. You don't have to justify yourself to me. To anyone. And she does love you Sam. I know she does. Hell, even I love you, in a twisted, you're that hot as hell stripper baby brother I like to brag about all the time kind of way. But really, you're the nicest guy on the planet, do you know that?"

"That's what they tell me."

"But I didn't come here to steal your girl Sam. You scared me. She scared us."

"Yea, she did."

"And she's going to leave us both you know. MIT ain't in New York City."

"Truth."

"But, I'm glad you took such good care of her when I couldn't."

He laughs and opens up into his super beautiful megawatt smile.

"Well damn, that's something I never thought I'd hear. Santana Lopez, let me pull up a plate of humble pie for you sweetheart."

"Shut it Fish Face. I can still make your life a living hell."

"I thought you didn't want to hurt me?"

"I don't, but that still can't stop me from singing "Under the Sea" every time I see your face."

"Noted."

"Are we gonna be okay?"

"Eventually."

"Thank you Sam."

"Not yet, Santana. But soon."

"Okay, I'll take it. But can we go back and take pictures now? Mercedes is going to kill us and Mr. Schue, I'm sure is freaking out."

"Why the hard part is over. The night's winding down?"

"Not really Sammy dear, it's just getting started. Walk with me?"

"Where to?"

"We've got a wedding to go to. Right about now."


	11. Chapter 11

**I own nothing other than my interpretation of the Gleeniverse. I did not create these characters nor their epic love.**

**Embarrassing spelling and typographical errors, sadly, all mine. **

**Love this ship.**

**Probably just two more chapters after this one, I think.**

**_Go Big and Go Home_**

**Chapter 11**

* * *

On our way back to the choir room, I politely excuse myself from Sam and make a break for the ladies room. I haven't been in hours and I'm starting to do the 'gots to go shuffle' on the stilts and it ain't pretty. Part of me wonders if I was so nice to Sam in the locker room because the proximity of the urinals was reminding me of how badly I had to go and well, if I was nice to Sam because I need the closure about him, more than he needs it about Britt. Whatever.

But truthfully my trip to the LGR (little girls room) also provides a brief sanctuary from the chaos that is my head right now. "What the fuck is going on with you Santana?" my better judgment bellows from within. I mean yesterday I was about to get my mack on with Lexi from Connecticut - who wears nothing but lululemon sports bras and yoga pants, at all times - because she's got abs that could grate hard cheddar and she's casting for an off-broadway musical about juvie. I figured, hell, I can still play a high school student in the right make up if I bring the high pony back and I might even like to get under this twenty-something ambisexual bombshell that is Lexi. Yet I had totally forgotten about her and her probably lame as shit off-Broadway show until right this moment on the far too familiar and oddly comforting can.

My head is a blender of anxiety about MIT and Britt and my Mom and Sam and my fingers are shaking my cell in my hands as I scroll through FaceBook (Mike Cheng liked your status update "New Directions KILLED IT! Again!") and Instagram (Mercedes got the PERFECT group shot!). Double tap! Then I hear an exasperated sigh escape my own mouth as my text message alert frightens a yelp out of my throat.

**_Britty Baby: _**_Where you at lady?_

_In the LGR, be back in a sec._

**_Britty Baby: _**_Kay. I miss you. Come back. : x_

The silly emoticon sentiment both fills my chest with oozing warmth and my head with dread. What have I gotten myself into?

I don't have time to pass judgment on the thought though because I've got a wedding to attend and this time I'm not going home with Quinn. I yank my spanks up over my ass. No, I don't have twenty hours of Cheerios and twenty hours of dance rehearsal and twenty hours of sexy sexy times a week anymore. Stuff moves, okay? So yes I wear them, you shut your mouth.

When I open the door Brittany is standing right in front of the stall, leaning on the sink. Of course she is.

"Hey Britty Baby, fancy meeting you here."

"Santana, there's something really strange going on in the choir room."

"Yea? What's that?"

"Sam came back smiling and everyone posed for pictures. And no one's fighting. And no one is stealing anyone's girlfriend or boyfriend and everyone is just so…"

She's showing me pictures on her phone screen and her brows are doing the electric slide across her face like she's searching for the most important word in the English language.

"Happy?" I offer and she starts to clap and jump and giggle.

"Well, Sam's not 'happy' I guess, but he seems okay. I mean, you didn't beat him up did you?"

"No, baby, I didn't. But I think Sam and I see eye to eye on a lot of things. Shockingly enough. And there IS a lot to celebrate, Britt." I grab some paper towel and wring my hands free of the chilly water.

"We should get back," I finish as I make way for the door.

"Wait!" Brittany exclaims wrapping her long fingers around my very cold hands.

"I want to celebrate you first."

Brittany leans in and touches her nose to my nose. I feel her breath pool over my lips before I feel hers make their gentlest landing, ever.

"Brittany…." I mumble into her air space, practically into her mouth actually. "We can wait just a little bit longer. I promise. So much kissing! Later. So much!"

"But I don't wanna San! I've been waiting weeks! Months! A whole basketball season even!"

I plunge my hands into the back of Brittany's hair and swirl her tresses into ringlets. Our lips connect and I can feel those fireworks ricochet off the walls all over again.

"So soon baby" and I lean over and peel the front of her dress down such a teeny tiny bit and I plant the most telling kiss I can right into her cleavage.

My kiss tells her that I'm going to kiss every last inch of her tonight. I will kiss the backs of her knees and the backs of her hands. I will kiss the inside of her wrist and the space between each finger. I will kiss the curve of her spine and the dimples on her lower back. I will kiss her navel, north belly (just above) and south belly (just below) and her clavicle. Both of them. I will kiss her inner elbows. Her palms. My single kiss tells her that I will spend fifteen minutes kissing each ear, thirty minutes kissing each breast, an hour kissing each thigh. My kiss tells her that I will kiss the very center of her person, where she wants me to kiss her the most, for as long as she can bear it. I will kiss her until she begs me to stop, then I will help her ride the waves to shore. Even if it takes until morning.

But my mouth keeps it simple, "You look so totally hot, Brittany."

I'm so glad Brittany can totally read my kiss.


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you to the reader who caught the late night update error. Reading chapter 1 is fun, but 12 is definitely better. Thanks for letting me know! This is the REAL chapter 12. Just one more to go!**

**I own nothing other than my interpretation of the Gleeniverse. I did not create these characters nor their epic love.**

**Embarrassing spelling and typographical errors, sadly, all mine. **

**Love this ship.**

**I so appreciate your thoughts. Please leave a review if you can! Thanks!**

**_Go Big and Go Home_**

**Chapter 12**

* * *

Brittany grabs my wrist, blushing scarlet, and makes a break for the locker room door. She doesn't even bother to re-adjust the front of her dress. Oh Brittany.

"Well, come on then Santana! Let's get back to the party!"

My legs are rendered spaghetti-like, again, as we cross back through the ghostly hallways to the celebratory hoots and hollers still exploding from the choir room. We turn the corner; Britt stops, plants a firm smootch on my left dimple, turns back and abruptly continues on. She smirks and smizes, "You've got it coming to you Lopez. You better brace yourself!"

All I can think to myself is _briiiiiinnnnng iiiiitttttttt….._

But before I can get too carried away in my imagining the seduction looming in my very near future I hear a breathy murmur from afar. It is Ms. Pills-_ Emma_'s high pitched voice over the palpable excitement ahead, "…I wanted an intimate ceremony, in a special place, surrounded by the people that we love."

And then Kurt's adorable retort, ""Are you guys seriously throwing a surprise wedding?"

Brittney's swagger-ful saunter turns into a silly scamper as she looks back in a panic, "Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! The re-wedding! We're going to miss it! San, hurry!"

As we enter the room in a flurry, Brittany finally hikes up the front of her dress and clamors to the bride to be. I throw my arms up in a victory dismount, thrilled that we made it just in time.

The next thing I know the New Directions, and the old New Directions, seamlessly assemble into an aisle without prompting. Sugar grabs an impromptu bouquet, from lord knows where, and a boldly out of tune humm-track of "The Bridal March" begins.

When we're good, we're really fucking good. Like Finn always said, "We're best when we're loose." And for a split second I'm sad that he's missing this, and then, I'm just, not.

But Mike Cheng looks too cute in that hat. Mercedes' smile lights the room. Puckerman 2.0 is an elegant gentleman beside Marley. Even Kitty glows with pride. Blaine is sweating profusely but I'm going to chalk that up to him absorbing everyone's anxiety so that we don't have to perspire at all. Brittany bounces beside me on the very tips of her toes. Sam hops in right next to her and, despite his still terrible haircut, I don't even mind. Artie looks up and grins at me. I happily take his gently offered hand. I really do wish we had thought to FaceTime Rachel in from New York or something. But then I realize Joe and Unique are both quietly filming and Ryder is snapping pictures. Perfect.

Emma looks like she's sixteen all of a sudden and Mr. Schue's not much better. They are both all giggles and awkward smiles like they've never seen each other before, or furthermore that the motley crew of young people sharing this very adorable moment has never truly seen them either. I feel like I can see my friends grow up before my very eyes. Everyone stands a little taller, a little more aware, a little more tuned in to the real and beautiful truth that is Emma Pillsbury loving William Schuester, simply because he scraped gum off of her shoe with a credit card and that somehow made her feel "clean".

Right at that moment Brittany squeezes my hand. I smile at the texture of her soft caress surrounding the square of my palm and look down to see our fingers readjust and entwine. Our hands always make me think of milk spilling into coffee, at first the contrast so evident, but then so evenly balanced into sometime entirely new. Separately we were pretty fabulous, but together we're café au lait.

Emma's rambling vows snap me out of my own head to hear "Just as I know the sky is blue I know that you and I are meant to be together". I can't help but think of Brittany's big baby blues but I keep my gaze on the groom. I've never seen him this fragile. This beautiful. This real.

Besides, I can feel Brittany smile without even looking away from Mr. Schue's goofy grin. His butt-chin really does make itself known when he's really happy which makes me really sad that I haven't really seen him this happy in a really long time. "Adorbs butt-chin for the win!" I chuckle to myself when he chokes out, "…as long as you just keep being you and let me love you I will be the happiest man alive."

I can't even with these two. Wemma. Even the pastor calls them "Wemma" and my mascara is no doubt running down my cheeks because I'm crying like a three-year-old that just dropped her ice cream and not because I'm sad or jealous, but because I'm just so damn happy to see someone in this family finally get what they want!

Bride and groom kiss and the whole room erupts into applause and cheers. Brittany starts full on rapping well wishes, completely with choreography, and Ryder shouts, "To Breadsticks!"

I turn to wrap my arms around Brittany's mug. I want to kiss her face, right here, right now. And instead I see her embracing Sam and gently rubbing his back. I have no idea what they just said to each other while I was lost in my thoughts, and for a moment I feel my breath stop in my throat and my eyes start to stretch with the acceleration in my heart but when Brittany sees me over Sam's shoulder she winks, just once, and smiles.

I feel Mercedes place her warm hand on my right shoulder as Kurt appears to my left. Their eyes meet over my nose as they say in unison, "Everything alright, ma?"

I half wonder if they appeared in preparation of having to hold me back from tearing Sam's flipped-out hair from his pretty head, but then I remember that they haven't had the full report from this morning's failed 'Fondue for Two', or from Marley walking in on Brittany and me backstage. Okay, well maybe they've heard about that. But not likely had they heard about my heart to heart with Sammy the boy's locker room, or about Brittany later finding me the bathroom, or really that in the last twenty-four hours everything has radically changed. But before I can even respond, Brittany lunges for my head and wraps her arms around my ears, practically elbowing Mercedes and Kurt to the ground in the process.

"Yes!" Brittany cheers! "Everything is Ah-May-Zing! It is ALL! It is ALL and EVERY-thing!"

"Which truly is a far cry from 'All or Nothing' isn't it?" Blaine says leaning in over Kurt's shoulder and kissing him on the cheek. Kurt immediately blushes and takes Blaine's hand and pulls him towards the door.

"Meet you guys at Breadsticks!" Kurt says dragging Blaine giggling behind him on their way out.

Mercedes shakes her head and clicks her tongue, "Those two are just…

"…too much?" Sam finishes her statement and politely bows.

"For old time's sake, Mercedes. Let me give you a ride. Mike already said it's okay. No date. No funny business. I just want to catch up with you."

Mercedes face splits with a grin, when she takes his hand. Brittany tightens her grip on my hip and whispers in my ear "I swear the whole time I was with Sam he was wishin' he was with her, and I was wishin I was with-"

"Don't Britt, you don't have to say-"

But before I could even finish the thought Brittany placed her beautiful lips smack on top of mine, wrapped her impossibly strong arms around the small of my back, and pulled my little self up right off of my heels. I felt my foot pop back behind me like one of those corny princesses in a storybook, or a flamingo.

I could hear hoots and applause and cheers and squeals, giggles and maybe even Sugar or Marley saying "Awwwwwwwweeeee!"

And this time they cheered for us.

Now did someone say dinner at Breadsticks?


	13. Chapter 13

**I own nothing other than my interpretation of the Gleeniverse. I did not create these characters nor their epic love.**

**Embarrassing spelling and typographical errors, sadly, all mine. **

**Love this ship.**

**This chapter was so much fun to write there will definitely be at least one more. Sorry for the tease! I had no idea parking lots could be so full of Brittana wit! **

**Also, thank you for your kind words and support. I sincerely hope you will leave a review again, or for the first time, if you can! Thanks!**

**_Go Big and Go Home_**

**Chapter 13**

* * *

As the crowd scatters to various cars all over the once crowded parking lot Brittany remains glued to my side and grinning her best Cheshire cat grin. On the way out Emma caught my eyes and smiled her most transparent "I'm so relieved to see you two so happy" smile and I felt the tops of my ears burn in reply. Mr. Schue bounced like he was on the moon, practically skipping out of the building and it made me realize that Mr. Schue and Brittany have so much more in common than not. They are both so kinesthetic, visceral even. They express themselves in music and movement so much more than with words. It's a good thing they have verbal people in their lives to translate sometimes, I guess.

"Santana I've got to get out of this dress," Brittany says plaintively as we cross the lot to the very last spot in East Cleveland.

Now her sparkly-eyed, dewy-lipped pout is absolutely irresistible to me, but the distinct lack of anything in my stomach is equally demanding. In fact my lower torso is bellowing a familiar aria from the cult favorite musical, _Little Shop of Horrors. _The song is the powerful 11 o'clock number, sung by a bloodthirsty plant, appropriately titled "Feed Me!"

"Baby, let's go to Breadsticks first, okay? Please don't hate me. I'm just so hungry, I need to eat before we… _tango_… or it will only end badly."

"Oh I'm not skipping out on dinner, no way!" Brittany giggles yanking me to her as she leans back onto my car. She kisses me sweetly before she continues, "I just want to take this damn dress off and put on my jeans before we GET to Breadsticks. That's all. I can change in the car. No probs."

"I'd like to take that dress off of you, but I can wait," I reply, kissing little baby kisses along her jaw line without straining to reach. I really like being as tall as Brittany, damn it. I might have to wear these shoes more often.

"Besides, I really want a breadstick. I mean New York has more authentic Italian food per square foot than Italy probably, but I really want a lame Lima breadstick because it feels like home, you know?"

"You feel like home." Brittany says locking her soothing blues to my weepy browns and gently trailing her finger across the side of my face.

"I know. You do too."

The kiss that follows shakes me to my ankles and may be a little bit more than I can handle with nothing in my system save a Diet Coke and a handful of stolen gummie bears. I feel woozy. I feel high. I feel like an idiot when a chuckling male voice shatters the silence shouting out of a car speeding its way to the exit.

"Get a room!" Mr. Schue shouts out the passenger seat window and Brittany and I both crack up seeing the newly made Mrs. Schuester behind the wheel. She's slapping him back into his seat yelling something along the lines of "Oh hush you, leave them alone! They're in love!" before the newlyweds disappear into laughter and the darkness down the road.

"Are we?" I ask, before I have thought to stop the words from swirling into the few inches between Brittany's mouth and mine. Jesus. I have no fucking filter when I'm hungry. It's like the words just materialize with the thought. It's dangerous.

"Are we in love?" she replies.

"Isn't that what I just said?"

"I guess."

"'You guess' that's the question, or 'you guess' that's the answer?"

"I don't want to guess, Santana. I know."

"Know what?"

"Know that I'm in love with you."

"How do you know? I mean things have been such a wre-"

"Stop. Santana. Stop. We're not doing this now. We're not over-thinking or over-processing anything. We're going to dinner and we're drinking three diet cokes a piece and then I'm going to take you home and I'm going to make love to you until we pass out and then the sun's going to come up and I'm going to do it again and again and again until I convince you never to leave me ever, ever again. Do you understand me?"

"Got it."

"Good."

"Okay."

"Great."

"So?"

"What?"

"What, what?"

"San, can we go now?"

"Of course. Sorry. I'm just so overwhelmed."

"Gimmie your keys, Santana. You're a mess. I'm driving."

"But you have to change! You can't change in the car if you're driving."

"Watch me. And grab the granola bar out of my duffle. Me thinks your blood sugar is in the toilet, my love."

Me thinks she's correct. My thoughts are just not adding up. At all. With that Brittany slides herself into the driver's side door and yanks her dress off over her head before reaching into the back seat. Her matching polka-dotted knickers and bra make me smile as we both dive for the duffle – me to grab the granola bar, her to grab her clothes, but we crash heads instead.

"Ouch!"

"Fuck!"

Cue laugh track.

Brittany starts the car in just her underwear and starts to back out of the spot and head out of the lot. Thank god we're the last ones left, or everyone and their brother would see Brittany driving through Lima in nothing but her polka dots. Not that Brittany cares, mind you.

I unzip the disaster that is her gym bag and find her jeans, the slouchy ones, my favorite, and a top. A Blueberry Bliss Luna Bar magically appears from the assorted hair products, make up, and gym socks and I tear the wrapper with my teeth before we've even hit the main road.

"Shirt?" Brittany requests like a doctor makes demands of a nurse in surgery.

"Shirt." I present, like a scalpel.

Her bare stomach makes me salivate more than the granola bar I'm chewing and I whisper, "See you later belly freckles" as she pulls the fitted v-neck over her head at a stop sign.

"Pants?" She requests, breathy.

"No pants."

"What do you mean 'no pants'? I put my slouchy jeans in there. You love them."

"Truth. But I love watching you drive my car in your underwear even more."

"Okay. No pants. But can I put on my pants before we go into Breadsticks?"

"Of course. If you got arrested for entering pants-less it would definitely delay me getting my mack on. Totally unacceptable."

"Obvi." She grabs my hand over the center console and squeezes. Hard.

"Okay no pants," she repeats, smiling the sheepish little half smile that makes my knees buckle.

Oh my god, did I miss this girl. I missed just messing with her like this. I missed the everyday playfulness that is Santana and Brittany making their way through the world.

"I missed you like crazy Brittany."

Her silence smacks me but her smile widens. Her brow furrows. She gulps. Her focus stays on the road. But she says, nothing. It's like she tries to formulate an appropriate response, finds it, but then chooses not to share it. I feel compelled to fill awkward airspace, because it's not like I can stop the word vomit.

"I know I have no right to say that. I know I'm the one that called us off. And I know it was too little too late when I came back. And I embarrassed you, and myself, when I tried to battle with Sam. I was a total idiot okay? I mean, I know you wanted me to find my way in New York and 'find someone like me' and all that. I mean I know that's why you didn't break up with Sam, Britt. I get it. You stayed with him, to get me to move on. I just never got to say thank you, you know? For seeing the bigger picture when I couldn't."

"There's nothing to thank me for Santana. Gimme the jeans, kay?"

I didn't even realize we'd come to a stop in the Breadsticks parking lot and Brittany is still sitting there, adorably half-naked. She slides off her character shoes, waiting for her pants.

"Oh my god, of course. Here. But let me finish- things got so awkward and we stopped talking and I just missed you okay? I missed this. Things like you driving to Breadsticks without pants and it being nothing out of the ordinary. You know? Who else would this make sense to? I'm just so sorry."

"For babbling? I forgive you." Brittany smiles, leans over and kisses my forehead, then pulls her jeans up over her hips and arches her navel toward the roof above our heads. I place my hand on the closure of her pants to settle her back into her seat. I force her to make eye contact with me and am surprised to see that hers are glassy.

"No. I'm sorry for trying to grow us up too fast and somehow thinking that growing up meant breaking up because it was the 'mature thing to do'."

"Ah, right. That. Ms. Pills- I mean Mrs. Schuester – said that too."

"Said what?"

"That you broke up with me because you thought it was 'the mature thing to do', not because it was."

Yea, Emma Pillsbury Schuester always could read me like a copy of _OK Magazine. _

"She also said that you were my lobster, the way Mr. Schue was her lobster, and eventually we'd find our way home."

"Is that so?"

"Yup. But it confused me because you don't really like seafood and when I told her that she said it was something from _Friends_, the TV show? And that Phoebe character that everyone says is like me."

"Lobsters. Okay. We'll have to look it up on Netflix or something."

"It's because lobsters mate for life, Santana. That's the point."

"Oh. Okay. Sure. It's getting late, we should go in."

Brittany grabs her chucks and pulls them on without bothering to untie the laces. Before I've even had a chance to re-apply my lipstick, thinking that this conversation has taken a turn for the weird, she's hopped out of the car to open my door. She offers me her arm and I stand. Brittany's now in sneakers and I'm still in my stilettos and for the first time ever, we're eye to eye.

"You're so tall! It's so funny!" she exclaims our noses touching.

"Strange to touch noses when we're not laying down." I reply placing a kiss directly on her perfect pout.

Then I kiss each of her eyes, and her cheeks, and her mouth. I feel her exhale and her shoulders quiver under my palms.

"Santana. Wait. Before we go in, I want to say I'm sorry too."

Her eyes are a darker blue than usual. Her lips a tense. Her hands take mine and it is oddly comforting and strange to be standing on level ground.

"I'm sorry I didn't fight harder for you. I'm sorry I got overwhelmed and just waited. I should have come to Louisville. I should have known that you were unhappy. I was just too unhappy myself to see anything else. I'm sorry that seeing me with Sam hurt you. I am. I just really needed a friend and I think I got close to him because I needed someone and he became my best friend. And I think he can still be, but he could never be you, San."

"Is that what were you going to say before? When I said 'I missed you', and you didn't respond?

Brittany worries her bottom lip between her teeth and nods.

"Umm hmm." A single tear drops to my hand.

"Hey, what's with the leaky peepers Britt?" I reply sweeping the swell of tears away with my thumbs.

"I think I just realized what has been wrong this whole time. I don't think your best friend and your lobster really can be the same person. You need both. I mean, if they are only one person then who can you talk to when either your best friend OR your lobster is being a jerk?"

Brittany is oddly beautiful when she cries and I can't help but chuckle at her perfect logic. But also I can't help but chuckle because her nose gets all red and her smile crumples and her hands swat around like she's swarmed by bees and she's just so flipping cute. Still seeing her chest heave and her tears pouring down her cheeks in rivers makes my eyes well too. And we're standing in the parking lot at Breadsticks, tear stained and awkwardly dressed. It's priceless, really. Rachel would have a field day with this.

Brittany continues, snotty red nose and all, "I needed Sam to be my best friend because my lobster was M-I-A but he wanted to be my lobster so it couldn't work. Mathematically it is impossible. And now I have ugly cry snot all over my face!"

"Brittany I think you're the most beautiful lobster, ever. Even with a runny nose and crying eyes. In fact, maybe even more so because of those things."

"Really? You wouldn't hate it if Sam was my best friend? I mean I don't want you to think you're demoted, because you were my best friend first, but you're so much more than that Santana."

"Brittany, I know. I totally get that. And I can't imagine how I would have survived the last few months without Rachel and Kurt. I mean- they are my best friends. Oh my god. I. Said. That. Out. Loud."

"Yea you did," Brittany said, through a wet laugh.

"But we need other people too Britt. We need our own lives. And you're going to go to Boston and I'm going to go back to New York and the best part is that we get to share our lives in both places. We will grow into new lives together, you know?"

"I hope so. I really do, Santana. I think we can. I'm not afraid of the Chinatown bus, if you're not."

"I'm not afraid of any stupid bus. I just don't want to grow up too fast you know? I don't want to play house and be married and try to be Emma and Will before we're ready. I want to grow up with you. That's all I want. That's what I've always wanted. I want us to do it together, okay? Does that makes sense?"

"About as much sense as crustaceans celebrating 50th Wedding Anniversaries at fabulous under the sea parties, Santana. If lobsters can do it, so can we."

"Because you're my lobster, Britt."

"And you are mine. But can we stop talking now? I want to eat some shrimp."

"Why does that suddenly feel like eating a relative?"

"It does. Well maybe we should share some pasta."

I shake my head and laugh.

Brittany grabs my hand and sprints to the door. She stops, leans back, kisses my cheek and takes off- leaving me shaking on wobbly knees, again.


	14. Chapter 14

**I own nothing other than my interpretation of the Gleeniverse. I did not create these characters nor their epic love. The actresses did – because theirs is the best love story ****_never_**** told. **

**Embarrassing spelling and typographical errors, sadly, all mine. **

**Love this ship.**

**Thanks for reading. Filling in the blanks of this episode was great fun. I probably will continue writing these two fools in some capacity. Not sure if I'll start a sequel right away or wait to see what Season 5 dishes out for me to "fill in" or "fix". But I have some ideas about what I'd love to see Brittany and Santana experience as they grow. If you have any suggestions feel free to PM. **

**Also, since this is a wrap with this chapter, I sincerely hope you will leave a review if you can! Thanks!**

**_Go Big and Go Home_**

**Chapter 14**

* * *

My definition of 'home' used to be very literal. It was the beautiful building in which my family and I slept, with giant stone façade with the white siding and the bright red door. It was the complicated address that I labored to memorize as a kindergarten student. It was my default location. It was where I ate, where I bathed, where I played, where I rested when I was sick, where I stayed safe when it stormed.

But as I got older 'home' started to include the characters that lived inside that very literal house. The parents who made me, obviously, but also the parents who made them, and our aunts and uncles and dozens of cousins, and our friends who had become family too. The traffic of feet and voices variant in age and accent all collectively defined my home. All of the people who could tell- and would tell- child Santana what to do, where to go, how to be safe, how to be pretty, how to be smart, how to be Santana. They were all part of my definition of home. I really believed my mother when she would say, "if it takes a village to raise a child, it might take a whole city to tame Santana."

As a pain in the butt kid, I not so secretly enjoyed that I required more. It made me proud. I was working so hard to fill the silence of that big empty house when it wasn't a holiday, or a special day, and there just wasn't anyone around, seemingly ever. No wonder I always felt more 'at home' at Brittany's than at my house. People breathed at the Pierce's. It was always warm, even in the dead of winter.

I practiced an almost pathological perfectionism just trying to squeeze the warmth out of my cryptic parents who only showed affection in the form of money or food. When that didn't work, every tantrum I threw, every boundary I broke, every door I slammed, every perceived resentment I hurled at them, was actually my subconscious trying to get my them to just be 'home' and hang out with, or even get to know me. But it didn't work either. They would just ground me; take away my phone, my car keys and still have other places to be. So I would just climb out the window, it's not like they ever knew. And if they did, they didn't stop me.

So, yes I may seem spoiled in the material sense. I never had to want for anything, but the things I "earned" for good behavior were pretty much guilt bribes for my silence. I would have traded any of it, the car, the clothing, and unlimited access to the credit card, for any amount of my parent's actual focused attention. My mother thought I needed a city, but really I just needed her, and maybe my dad too.

But I can honestly say now that I didn't know what the fuck 'home' really meant until I left it behind, for real. Home is the least literal thing I can wrap my brain around. It is ethereal like a song, so beautiful in the moment, but blink and it is gone.

I know that my mother sees that too. We talk more now that I'm on my own that we ever did when I actually lived in her house. Or maybe it is because in my retreat from Louisville, she met the Santana I never let her see while I was still in high school. The Santana that was so far from perfect and so heartbroken and frightened that I couldn't even pretend not to be. So I slunk back under her roof proving that the city failed her baby and she was brokenhearted, devastated and in the spiritual sense of the word, homeless.

That first night back in my parent's house in Lima, I thought it would feel so great to be home. I thought leaving college and going home would somehow reverse time at best, or at worst at least make the ache in my chest recede a little. Coming home was supposed to make it better. I couldn't sleep and I was so restless, even when my mother rubbed her thumb in tiny circles on my back. But at some time during that first night back in my childhood bedroom I realized that my home wasn't my family or the subdivision they provided for me to live in, but actually the only person who could actually provide me a real safe haven and all of the things I needed to survive.

Brittany nurtures me in a way others cannot. She is exactly who I want to play with me in every way. Every day I want to rest beside Brittany, I want her hold me when I am sick. It is Brittany that shelters me from storms I may not even know are happening and Brittany who baths me in so many truths. It is amazing to me I didn't figure this out sooner. Brittany IS my home and I'd really love to be hers.

* * *

Leaving Breadsticks after Wemma Wedding 2.0 should feel like walking on a happy cloud. But I think I ate sixteen servings of spaghetti alla Carbonara because Sue's not weighing me and I can. My tummy is very very full. My heart is crazy full. My head is stupid full of happy. It weighs a lot. I feel my feet dragging slowly from step to step. Brittany swings our arms gently between us and I drop my head to her shoulder because I'm miraculously still wearing these absurdly tall shoes ten hours after I put them on. Almost as soon as I do the math and I realize that at one thirty in the morning my ankles are nearing hour ten, I realize they fucking hurt.

"Owww, Britt, slow down, my feet are killing me in these blasted shoes!"

Before I even finish the statement, Brittany stops in front of me and offers me her back.

"Hop on baby, I'll carry you back to the car."

And she does. I can't remember the last time Britt gave me a proper piggyback. Probably not since we were sophomores or something. It feels a little silly to be in such adult clothing doing something so childish, but I slide her hair aside and kiss the back of her neck in appreciation of her chivalry and enjoy the 200 meter ride. She giggles and slides her hands from under my thighs, to just under my ass and I marvel at yet another ridiculous way the puzzle pieces of our bodies just fit.

I click the doors open with the keys in my pocket and Brittany lets me slide off of her back into the passenger seat.

"Let me drive, baby. You just nap, okay?"

She can see that I've fallen into a carb coma and despite the four Diet Cokes, I'm crashing. Poor Britty, I think. She wants to get laid so badly… but even my cheeky thoughts are shutting down into slumber.

I don't remember much of the ride home, other than Brittany's hand on my thigh, making tiny circles with her fingers.

Brittany carries me over the threshold of her parents' house and up the stairs and gently places me on her bed. She removes each of my shoes and gently massaged each of my arches. If I wasn't half asleep, I swear to all kinds of gods that I would drop to my knee and propose.

"Baby, do you still use the same make up remover?"

My eyes are closed but I can hear her voice on my right, so I turn to the right and nod, yes.

"Do you think you can do it yourself?"

I shake my head, no.

"Okay, I've got it, just keep your eyes closed gently okay?"

I feel her left hand cradle the back of my head as it falls like dead weight into her open palm. The cold make up removal cloth touches the bridge of my nose and gently sweeps across and under each eye. Back over my nose. Up and around the perimeter of my face. She flips the cloth over and repeats over my eyes. Double and triple checking that the eyeliner is all gone, the mascara dissolved, under the gentle pressure of her fingers sliding cotton across my skin. It is strangely intimate and soothing and really smells good actually.

"San, honey, you have to take your contacts out, love. I can't do that."

I nod again and gently peel the tiny films off of my eyes and place them in Brittany's open hand.

She giggles.

"Well you didn't have to give them to me, that's actually kind of gross."

"Sowwy." I mutter laughing to myself. I didn't even realize I was doing it. I used to leave them in a little pile on the bedside table. When they dry out they get crunchy. I think it's really cool. Britt always said it was gross though.

Brittany then, leans me forward onto her shoulder and unzips the back of my dress. She gently folds each of my arms back through the shoulder straps and slides the dress over my hips and legs and feet. She lays me gently back on the pillow and I am trying so hard to stay conscious as my head lolls to one side and I can smell her shampoo and perfume trapped in its soft surface beneath my cheek. She rolls me a little to the right and unclasps my bra, sliding the straps over my chilly shoulders. She places reverent little kiss on each of my breasts before she slides a tank top over my head and sneaks each of my arms through the armholes. The absence of Brittany's hands on my body then feels violent as my legs curl up towards my chest and the surface of my consciousness gets farther and farther away.

"Britt?"

"I'm just getting myself ready for bed, San. I'm right here. I'll be right back. Just have to get this crap off of my face too."

"I'm sowwy Britt."

"For what, honey?"

"For sweeping on your tango."

I can hear her pants drop to the floor with a chuckle and her feet pad around on the carpet toward the dresser where I'm sure she grabs another tank top for herself.

"Don't be silly Santana, you took an overnight train to get here, and I know you didn't sleep much on the way."

"Uh uh, I dinnent."

"And you were standing on those scaffolding shoes all day, absorbing all of my anxiety and everyone else's"

"Uh huh." It was exhausting.

I feel the bed dip next to me as Brittany climbs in behind me and leans back to click off the light.

"I've gotchu now, San, you can go to sleep."

"But is sexy sexy time. Boom boom time Britt."

In my head, I sound so alluring, but I'm pretty sure I'm babbling like a four year old.

"Shhhhh" she coos into my ear as she wraps her hands around my abdomen, circles my navel with her thumb, and gently kisses my ear.

"Shhhhh" I echo, snuggling my back into her stomach and holding her arms as tightly as I can. I love being the little spoon.

"I got you. You're home now. That's all that matters." is the last thing I hear before I plummet to sleep.


End file.
